


A Chance I'll Take

by amandasarmada



Series: Newt and Tina (Headcanon Ficverse) [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon Typical Violence, F/M, Nurmengard, bad people doing bad things, i just want everyone to be happy, i'm sorry newt it'll be ok, my first attempt at whump, my headcanon for the second movie, ok real tags, tina will take care of u, whump!Newt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-10-16 02:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 46,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10562295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandasarmada/pseuds/amandasarmada
Summary: The year is 1928, and upon hearing that Newt Scamander has disappeared, believed kidnapped, Tina and crew rushes to England to investigate.  Will Tina be a badass? Yes. Will there be Feelings involved? Yes. Will Newt and Tina get their act together? Let's find out together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take on the possible events of the second movie - and essentially, my attempt at reconciling the knowledge that Leta will be a significant part of the movie with the demands of my newtina heart. Following the angst and general emotional torture of this piece of soul-sucking hell, I will be moving on to something fluffy. Yay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ay I ripped off the idea of using image files to recreate the letters from someone else on here (because it's brilliant), but I can't remember which story it was b/c i am a Dumb. If you remember seeing a Newtina story on here with letters posted like that, and you can find the title, pls let me know so I can credit them for the inspiration!!! <3

 

 

* * *

“It's gonna be okay, honey.”

Tina glanced up, her dark eyes cloudy as she felt her sister's hand on her shoulder. She still clutched the piece of parchment in her hand; it hadn't left her grasp since she'd picked it up that morning. She could hear her heart beating in her chest, and was sure her sister could too.

She was sitting in a vestibule outside the Auror offices at the Ministry of Magic, having arrived nearly an hour earlier than scheduled. Queenie hovered by her side, Jacob Kowalski sitting opposite her. The mood was somber, Tina's earnest face contorted into an expression of deepest worry.

“Yeah. Newt's tough as they come, you know that.” Jacob offered her a gentle smile, which she tried bravely to return. It came out as a grimace.

Upon unfurling the letter that morning, she'd moved as if in a dream, her sister appearing in front of her without her awareness of her approach. In a frenzy of activity, they'd collected Jacob from the bakery, who had, in turn, acted as a stalwart, soothing presence as Queenie packed their bags. She'd barely spoken two sentences in over an hour, her eyes dark and fiery as she stared at absolutely nothing.

Across from her, Jacob was wiping his sweaty palms on the legs of his trousers. His eyes met Queenie's again, a silent conversation of worry and fear. For her part, Tina sat perfectly still, half-holding her breath as they waited for Theseus to slip out of his meeting with the French Minister.

What happened next unfolded so fast she barely registered it. She felt Queenie shudder beside her, a cold draft swept through the room, and then everything went black.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The world had ended, and yet still she suffered, the sound of her father's agonized retching shaking her to her core. She could see their faces, she was _there_ again, a stowaway in the sterilized hospital room, having snuck in right under the Healer's distracted nose. She squeezed her mother's mottled-green hand, tears running in a hot stream down her cheeks as she ignored her mother's pleas for her to leave, disregarding her whispered urging that she didn't want her seeing them like this. See them she did, even as suddenly the scene changed, and Tina lurched, opening her eyes feebly -

Spotted skin came into view, blurring with the pockmarked faces still burning her vision.

The Pox – she couldn't _bear_ it -

 _No. Freckles._ Tina frowned, her head swimming.

“Newt?”

“Close, but I'm afraid not.”

Tina blinked, shaking as she tried to sit up. A familiar-looking face greeted her, and her stomach gave a great shudder. Her eyes widened as she considered the man leaning over her.  

He looked like Newt, and yet he didn't; they had the same thin face and boyish features, the same strong jawline and high cheekbones sprinkled with a scattering of freckles, but his hair was several shades darker, and also shorter and more controlled than she'd ever seen Newt's wayward curls.  His eyes were a deep, piercing blue, darker and with none of the green and gold that made Newt's eyes so distinctive.  Yet when he smiled - a little sadly, but with genuine concern - there was no question who this man must be.  Tina shivered again.

“It's alright, Teenie. I'm here. It wasn't real.”

The sound of her sister's voice was like a tonic, alleviating the worst of her symptoms as Tina allowed Jacob to lift her sides and prop her up, still trembling a bit. She slowly became aware she was sprawled across the floor, and scrambled to rectify the situation.

“Whoa, easy there doll. You're alright.” Jacob's voice was soft, his hands gentle on her waist. Tina closed her eyes, blinking a few times before she got her bearings.

“I must apologize. I didn't realize they would be here today, or that you wouldn't be accustomed -” The man in front of her looked sympathetic, his firm build still crouched before her as he studied her stricken face.

“What happened?” she asked quietly. She was mortified; she could only imagine what he must think of her. She rarely lost control in the field, and to present such an impression, _now_ -

“No, Teenie. He's relieved you're here, he thinks they're terrible as well.” Queenie's voice was soothing, her hand finding hers and squeezing it reassuringly.  Theseus gave the younger woman a strange look, raising one eyebrow, but said nothing, and Queenie ignored his puzzled expression, her mind on her sister.

“Jacob honey? You got any of that chocolate left from this morning?” she murmured, searching Tina's face.

“Hmm? Oh – yeah, sure darlin'-” he reached into his oversized pocket, rummaging for a moment before he pulled out the remains of a slab of fudge. Queenie accepted it gratefully, touching her wand to it to enlarge it a bit before handing it over to her sister. “Here, Teenie, this should help,” she said gently.

“Excellent thinking, I was just about to retrieve some myself-” Theseus muttered, still watching Tina with utmost concern.

Queenie smiled slightly at this, meeting Tina's gaze and stifling a weak chuckle. “...Go on, Teenie, try it,” she murmured.

Tina shrugged, taking a small bite, then started at the sudden feeling of warmth that flooded through her. She took another, frowning a bit in concentration.

“Are you alright?” Theseus asked after a moment, his voice kindly. Tina nodded, climbing steadily to her feet. Theseus frowned. “...Please don't feel embarrassed, Miss Goldstein. They're dreadful creatures, and you're not the first -”

“Thank you,” she said firmly, fixing him with a serious look. Her eyes darted around the rows of cubicles around them, from which several pairs of eyes kept shooting their way. “I'm sorry, is there somewhere more private we could-”

“Of course. Please, do follow me.”

He led them into his office, a sprawling room that put her own desk at MACUSA to shame. Jacob looked around in awe, though he refrained from commenting, and settled for a sober expression as Theseus turned to face them.

“First of all, I believe some introductions are in order. Theseus Scamander,” he said primly, holding out his hand to each of them in turn. “I am forever in your debt, all of you.” He fixed his gaze on Tina, the corners of his mouth quirking into a small smile. “And you must be Porpentina Goldstein. I'd know that face anywhere.”

“I – really?” Tina's eyebrows furrowed.

Theseus hesitated, smiling slightly. “There was a photograph of you in the papers, after the Incident in New York.”

“Right,” she said, blushing. “Of course.” She cleared her throat, looking at her companions. “Mr. Scamander, I'd like you to meet my sister, Queenie, and her fiance, Jacob Kowalski.”

Theseus nodded, his eyes traveling over them.

“It's a pleasure to meet you. I can't even begin to thank you for coming. I assumed it was a long shot with Miss Goldstein - I never dreamed so many would rush to my aid."

“Hey, anything for Newt.” Jacob's voice was gentle but firm. Theseus looked surprised, gratified, and even somewhat curious as he smiled in return.

“Well needless to say, I'm delighted to hear he's managed to find such steadfast friends."  He cleared his throat, his breath catching for a moment. "Please, if you'd like to sit down-”

“I'm sorry, I don't mean to interrupt,” Jacob interjected, throwing a concerned glance at his future sister-in-law. “But I gotta ask - what exactly  _happened_ out there?”

Theseus looked at him blankly.

Jacob raised his eyebrows.  "It got all cold and sad? Tina fainted?"

“Ah." Theseus sighed, ducking his head as he gave a small nod. " _That_ was a Dementor-” he said promptly, pursing his lips in regret. “The prison guards, you know. I realize you don't use them in America, but I'm sure you've heard of them in passing-”

“Uhhh...I'm sorry?” Jacob's forehead was creased as he shook his head in confusion.

“...He couldn't see it,” Queenie whispered, the realization coming to her as she gazed solemnly at her fiance.

“Couldn't-?” Theseus's brow furrowed, then his eyes suddenly widened in understanding. “You're a _Muggle_ ,” he exclaimed, sounding more surprised than angry.

“I -” Jacob shot an alarmed glance at the Goldstein sisters.

“It's what they call No-Majs here,” Tina murmured to him, still clutching her arms to her chest. Theseus considered them all curiously.

“I must apologize, Mr. Kowalski, I certainly hope I didn't sound rude,” he added lightly, after a moment's silence. “I meant no offense of course, it was just a bit unexpected.”

Jacob nodded, sighing heavily as he threw a worried glance to his fiancee. “Listen, I hope that's not a problem," he said, his voice low.  "I don't want to get nobody in any trouble...”

“Why would you get anybody into trouble?” Theseus looked flummoxed.

Jacob raised his eyebrows.

Theseus started, comprehension dawning. “Ah, right. The Dorcas thing. I'd forgotten.” He shook his head. “No, it's fine, of course. The more the merrier.” Theseus gave him a small smile, looking bemused.

“... _Fine?_ ” Jacob repeated, gaping incredulously.

“They're much more lax about the Statute of Secrecy here, remember,” Tina murmured, glancing his way.

“Er – well, I wouldn't say _lax_ , exactly,” Theseus replied, appearing a bit disconcerted at the thought. He sighed, shrugging it off. “But I suppose that's neither here nor there, is it. Please, all of you, take a seat.”

There was a couch and two chairs facing Theseus's desk.  The trio took their seats in silence, still struggling to adjust to the rapid series of events.  Tina looked up, her dark eyes meeting Theseus's bluish grey ones.  “Care to fill us in?” she asked quietly.

Theseus started.  He'd been considering the lot of them with a sort of benign fascination, as if he'd never seen anything quite like them before. “Yes, of course.” He cleared his throat. “Well, you read my letter.”

“Yes,” Tina said patiently. “You just said – Newt's gone missing, and you believe he was kidnapped - and that you suspect Grindelwald is involved.”

“Exactly,” Theseus nodded, his expression sober.

Tina hesitated, waiting for him to elaborate. When he did not, she frowned slightly, pushing forward. “Can I ask why?”

 _“Why?”_ Theseus repeated, raising his eyebrows.

“I was under the impression that Grindelwald wasn't a particularly powerful presence in this country.”

“Minister Fawley would certainly have us think so,” Theseus sighed, moving to stand by one of the floor-length windows that lined his office. “It's true that he's yet to establish a foothold here in England," he admitted, slipping his hands into his pockets in a gesture that reminded Tina painfully of Newt.  "Word has it that he fears Dumbledore - and rightly so, to be frank.” He surveyed them all with a very serious look. “But we would be remiss to downplay his influence throughout Europe, and what influences Europe influences England, always. I've been appointed the head of a team created to investigate Grindelwald and his followers across the continent, and interfere whenever possible. We're liaising out of Britain, but we expect to become a fully international organization in the coming months. Already we've foiled more than one of Grindelwald's strikes for power.”

“And you think Grindelwald's – what, after revenge?” Tina asked, a little skeptically.

“Among other things. I daresay Grindelwald wouldn't mind sending me and the Ministry a message, not to mention getting vengeance on Newt himself for thwarting his plans back in New York. For _that_ matter, it would be a rather tidy way of distracting me, of diverting my attention from cracking down on any of his other dastardly deeds.”

Tina nodded, considering this for a moment, before steeling herself, finally voicing the question that had settled like a bombshell on her mind since opening the letter that morning. “Mr. Scamander-”

“Theseus, please.” He nodded to her.

“Theseus - ” she began again. She took a long, steadying breath, before daring to meet his gaze. “Do you think Newt is still alive?”

She felt both Queenie and Jacob tense, but she had eyes only for the man in front of her. Theseus was silent for a moment, turning to stare somberly out the window again before responding. In profile, his resemblance to Newt became all the more striking, and it took all of her resolve not to turn away. “Yes, Miss Goldstein. I do,” he said finally.

“Any particular reason why?” she managed, her expression pained. Theseus considered her shrewdly.

“There have been – rumours,” he said delicately, meeting her gaze.

“Rumours?” she repeated stoutly.

“...Yes,” Theseus continued carefully. “Rumours that Grindelwald has become _obsessed_ with magical creatures. One specific magical creature in particular - though why he's so fascinated, I don't pretend to know." He sighed. "At any rate, it's possible he believes that Newt has some specialised knowledge in these particular - creatures - or that he's perhaps gotten his hands on another kind of dangerous creature altogether, and requires specialist knowledge in order to tend to it-”

“What kind of magical creature?”

“Beg your pardon?” Theseus raised his eyebrows, fairly unaccustomed to being interrupted.

Tina stared back at him, her voice steady. “What kind of magical creature has Grindelwald become obsessed with?”

Theseus met her gaze calmly, his blue eyes steely. “Obscurials.”

This statement was followed by a long moment of silence, as each of them absorbed the implications of Theseus's words.

“...When, _exactly_ , was Newt last seen?” Tina asked, after taking a moment to collect herself.

Theseus surveyed her, before making his way to sit at the desk adorning the far wall. “He stopped coming in to work ten days ago. It wasn't considered suspicious, he often takes these little _jaunts_ , and it isn't the first time he neglected to leave a note.” Theseus pursed his lips, looking almost amused in spite of himself. Tina felt something in her heart ache a little.

 _Ten days_. The reality of the situation hit her like a brick, leaving her feeling nauseous. Glancing at her companions, she didn't think they looked much better.

“Do you know – where Grindelwald was last seen? Where he might be hiding him?” A possibility was nagging her, but she refused to consider it, refused to accept what deep down she already knew.

Theseus fixed her with a silent stare, his gaze pointed and more than a little sympathetic. “You know where he must be keeping him, Miss Goldstein.”

Beside her, she could feel her sister trembling, but she refused to break, staring Theseus down as she braced herself for the worst.

“Nurmengard,” he said quietly.

Queenie gasped out a sob, unable to hold back. Tina didn't flinch, her chin held high, though there was a suspicious gleam lining her dark eyes.

“...Slow down a second,” Jacob interjected, glancing cautiously from face to face. “What's Nurmengard?”

“The prison Grindelwald built to torture his enemies.” It was Tina who answered, her voice low and soft. “It's said to be impossible to infiltrate or escape from.”

“Ain't anyone ever attempted a rescue operation?” Jacob asked, furrowing his brow.

There was a slight intake of breath from his companions, both sisters exchanging a glance.

“Attempted. Indeed.” Theseus's voice was suddenly strident. Tina frowned, picking up on the layer of pain resting just below the surface. “Two years ago, a number of international delegates, composed of some of the best Aurors in a generation, were sent to breech the prison and mount a rescue mission.”

“I'm guessing it was unsuccessful?” Jacob asked, cringing expectantly.

“They were all murdered before they could get through the door.”

Another wave of silence followed this pronouncement.

“I'm going.”

Queenie let out another shaky breath at her sister's declaration, but didn't contradict her. Theseus simply gazed at her for a few minutes. Tina looked back at him steadily, her expression eerily calm.

“...We all are,” Queenie said softly, squeezing Jacob's hand. Her fiance gazed at her, nodding his agreement. “Newt'd do the same for any of us,” he pointed out. Theseus turned to stare at both of them in turn, his expression pensive but otherwise unreadable.

“Alright then,” Theseus said finally, raising his eyebrows mildly. “In that case, I'd say we've got some planning to do.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EXCITING STUFF, EH? Eh? Ooooh, I wonder what's gonna happen next...I wonder if Newt and Tina are gonna KISSSSS...ooooh...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angsttt. Oh, the angst. Head's up, we have a certain unwanted guest making an appearance in this chapter. *Growls*

**TWO WEEKS EARLIER**

**La Peluda Parlant - Paris**

It was dark inside the grimy little pub, the occupants keeping to themselves as they sipped their drinks, seemingly oblivious to the scuffle breaking out a few feet away. Newt Scamander stood with his back against the wall, two grungy-looking wizards bearing down on him.

“I _told_ you, we are not sell-eeng,” the shorter of the two breathed, brandishing his wand a few inches from his face. “Would it 'elp if I said it in Eenglish, Mr. Fantastic?”

“You know, I don't want any trouble,” Newt said timidly, putting up his hands. His own wand was still stowed safely away in the loop attached to his trousers, completely useless to him. The man sneered, his wand twitching in his hand as it emitted a few warning sparks.

“ _'Don't want trouble,'_ ” he whispered, smirking at his companion. “ _Crois-tu_ _lui_ _, Marceau_?”

“ _Imbécile_ ,” the second man chuckled, shaking his head.

“ _Oui_ _,_ _je_ _suis_ _stupide_ ,” Newt agreed, smiling beguilingly at the pair of them. “Can I go?”

The first man cracked up, his partner snickering from beside him. “I don't zink so, _non_ , _Monsieur_ _Fantastique_ ,” he said slowly. “You see, we 'ave given you ze opportunitee to go _before_ , but you inseested - even _folloween_ us 'ere –” he tutted, shaking his head. “Very rude, _Monsieur_ _Fantastique_.”

“Surely we can work something out.” He smiled optimistically, raising his eyebrows. “I have some rather _prime_ Ashwinder eggs -”

“ _Ashwinder eggs_ ,” the man laughed, glancing at his friend again with amusement. “We aren't lookeeng for anymore _talk_ , Monsieur _Fantastic_ ,” the man spat, grinning toothily. He raised his wand.

“I see. In that case-” Newt ducked, the Swooping Evil darting and lashing from his sleeve.

It was chaos, absolute chaos - what looked like a hag knocked three wizards out of the way in its rush for the door, one of them whose cigarette caught a newspaper on fire. The bartender was shouting in French, a House-Elf darting through the din to put the flame out. A woman screamed as the Swooping Evil came narrowly close to her, his teeth bared menacingly. There were more shouts, some scurrying toward the exit – another witch brandished her wand, only to have it knocked out of her hand by the bat-like creature.

“...So sorry,” Newt said calmly a minute later, bending over the two men. Both of them were lying flat on their backs on the dirty floor, staring upward in shock. “I hope I didn't hurt you.”

“ _Château d'Atlantes_ ,” the first man muttered, his expression greedy. He stared shrewdly, scrambling to sit up. “What is zat zing?”

Newt raised his eyebrows, as the Swooping Evil curled back up inside its ball inside his coat. “This? The locals call it the Winged Demon. Found him in India. They imprint upon birth, making them supremely loyal, and quite handy in a pinch, as you just saw.” He looked at them curiously, still hovering over them. “I do happen to have a few eggs for sale, if you're interested in an arrangement-”

The man's eyes narrowed. “'Ow much. Name your price.”

Newt paused, deliberating this point before glancing down at the men still sprawled across the floor. “I'm afraid I'm not really interested in gold. A bit - _gauche,_ I find.” He smiled modestly, glancing away. “And to be honest with you, my friends, I'm not even sure you could put a _price_ on something so invaluable.” The two men exchanged a look. “However - there are a few more... _exotic_ creatures I've been looking to add to my collection,” Newt confided, raising his eyebrows.

“Done,” the first man said, climbing to his feet. “Zey're more 'assle zan zey're worth anyway, _ces bêtes_.” He looked at the silk pouch Newt was retrieving from his pocket. “'Ow long unteel zey 'atch?” he added hungrily, his yellow teeth gleaming in the bar light.

“About six weeks. They need twelve hours of sunlight a day, incidentally, to get the necessary vitamins-”

“ _C'est_ _bien_.”

Newt raised his eyebrows meekly. “I really must warn you, if you neglect-”

“Do I look like _un sot?_ I 'eard you. Twelve 'ours.” He nodded to his companion. “Give zem to 'im.”

They made the swap without fuss – three “Winged Demon” eggs for seven runespoor eggs - Newt smiling unassumingly as the two men cackled to themselves. He allowed the filthier of the two men to shake his hand, noting that he reeked of tobacco and cheap wine.

“Nice do-een business wiz you, _Monsieur Fantastic_ ,” he smirked.

“Same to you, _Monsieur Pelletier,_ ” he said mildly, smiling politely.

Newt watched as the men slunk out, still chuckling to themselves in rapid French. He shrugged, feeling fairly cheerful as he slipped the new acquisitions into his case.

“...Still getting into trouble, I see.”

Newt froze, paling as his amused smile slipped away. He turned slightly, his gaze on the floor.

A beautiful young woman had stepped out of the shadows, a slight smirk decorating her face, despite the flash of nervousness in her eyes. Newt tensed, scarcely daring to look up.

“Leta.”

* * *

_**Present Day** _

**Newt Scamander's Flat - London**

The smiling face of Leta Lestrange was gazing up at her, seemingly oblivious to the pain she was causing.

Tina swallowed, glancing around before pulling the photo from the drawer. She was alone in the little sitting room, the others spread through the apartment, searching for any clues they could find.

She returned her attention to the picture. She'd recognized it immediately; Queenie had pointed it out to her nearly a year and a half before, while they were down in Newt's suitcase tending to his injuries after their encounter with Grindelwald. She'd read her thoughts, known she was falling for the eccentric magizoologist, and wanted to warn her sister of Newt's past before she'd gotten in too deep.

It hadn't worked.

Over the past two years, her friendship with Newt had blossomed, both of them delighted to find someone who seemed to so instinctively understand them, _admire_ them. They'd encouraged and supported each other, confided in one another, learned to love each other (albeit, Tina lamented, perhaps not in the same way).

And in doing so, there had been few topics they hadn't discussed - yet his relationship to this mysterious young woman remained one of the few nuts she hadn't cracked. All she knew was that she'd been one of the few people who'd ever made him feel cared for, and she had betrayed him somehow.

Tina gazed at the photograph, taking in every detail. She truly was an extraordinarily beautiful witch. _Queenie_ -level beautiful, even. Tina sighed, her heart sinking. She never had been able to compete with her sister.

Still.

He had, apparently, relegated her picture to the drawer at some point in the past two years. Tina felt inexplicably guilty about the wave of hope that flourished in her chest at the thought. Maybe he wasn't -

“Miss Tina?”

She turned, startled out of her reverie by Theseus's voice. She shoved the picture hastily back in the drawer, her cheeks burning. If Theseus noticed anything, he didn't comment.

“You said you wanted to see the case?” he continued, raising his eyebrows politely.

“Right. Yes.” She exhaled slowly, throwing him a shy smile as she stepped forward. Behind him, Jacob and Queenie appeared, her sister eyeing her curiously. Tina shook her head slightly, biting her lip.

Theseus chatted away as they descended into the suitcase, firing off questions about fwoopers and Silencing Charms, expressing his concern that perhaps he'd been overfeeding the mooncalves. Tina listened distractedly, replying when appropriate. She was grateful for her sister and Jacob, the social ones in the group, who kept up the conversation with ease, leaving her free to dwell on her thoughts.

Theseus touched her back politely, helping her hop down the last step of the ladder, her sister and Jacob following in her wake. They made the usual gasps of awe and delight as they gazed around the expanded suitcase, the sounds of chirps and roars echoing from outside the little cabin.

Tina swallowed, looking around. It was almost exactly as she remembered, barely distinguishable from when she'd first seen it two years ago.

“Incredible, isn't it?” Theseus asked, suddenly beside her again.

Tina was quiet for a moment, eyes still scanning the place. “Do you mind if I look around a bit?” she asked finally.

“Be my guest. I'm off to check on the graphorns. Mr. Kowalski, Miss Goldstein? Would you care to join me?”

And so she was left alone, as she preferred it, free to examine the place at her leisure. Part of her was aching to check on the creatures – they must be frantic, they'd never been left without Newt for so long before – but something held her back, wanting to present a reassuring face when she finally greeted them. Besides, Queenie and Jacob could handle it, at least for a little while.

The suitcase was affecting her more than she thought it would, and her breath caught as she halted, hand still on the doorknob to the outer sanctuaries. She wasn't sure if she could quite face it yet. It took everything in her to keep her chest from shaking with emotion. This place was so purely, irrevocably, _Newt._ And it hurt.

She turned, stepping tentatively back into the room, eyes scanning the little workspace. It was as messy as ever, heaps of loosely bound parchment spread in stacks along his desk. Tina stepped forward, hovering over them. Theseus must have went through these, of course, but she couldn't resist taking a look for herself.

It was mostly scattered notes, observations about graphorns and mackled malaclaws, littered with occasional sketches, though after a moment she spotted a stack of correspondence perched precariously against the wall. She slid it closer, rifling through them. _Tina, Tina, Tina, Augustus Worme, Tina, Tina, Tina, Tina, Dumbledore, his mother-_

She frowned slightly, moving some of his notes on nogtails in order to glance curiously at what seemed to be the beginning of an unfinished letter.

_**April 30, 1928** _

_Dearest Tina,_

_I have never laughed so hard in my life. You are a treasure -_

She swallowed, forcing herself to look away. Her gaze shifted, landing on the wall above the desk. A familiar face grinned back at her.

Her hand shook as she reached out, fingers brushing the photograph hanging amidst countless sketches and newspaper clippings, some describing creature sightings or attacks, others announcing book sales and short interview segments.

It had been taken a year ago, when Newt had briefly returned in order to deliver her copy of his book. The four of them, here, in the suitcase, Dougal fading in and out from where he hung across Jacob's back, an occamy slithering across Tina's arms. Queenie looked radiant as always, Newt's gaze glancing periodically at the smiling brunette beside him.

Her eyes slid over, her heart doing another somersault. This photograph was slightly smaller, clearly clipped out of a newspaper article. She was standing inside the subway, staring up in wonder as Newt said goodbye to Frank. Her gaze darted back and forth between Newt and the Thunderbird, and it was difficult to say which she found more mesmerizing. The caption beneath read: ' _MACUSA Auror Porpentina Goldstein and British Magizoologist Newton Scamander prepare to hatch daring plan to save the city.'_ Tina's face burned, staring at it.

The third depicted the Goldstein sitting room, another souvenir from his visit to celebrate the book release. Queenie had taken it, though Tina hadn't realized it at the time. She was laughing on their settee, their shoulders brushing, sitting a little too close to be considered entirely casual. Newt was holding his book, beaming bashfully at her. Tina's eyes prickled.

“ _Geminio_ ,” she whispered, then glanced around before slipping the duplicate into the pocket of her robes.

She exhaled slowly, blinking furiously, only to be startled by the feeling of a hand weaving into hers. She jumped, reaching instinctively for her wand, only to look down and see a shimmer, the demiguise wavering into existence.

“Dougal.” She laughed, choking back tears. “You scared me, little friend.”

Dougal squeezed her hand, blinking up at her balefully.

She held her breath, managing a weak smile. “I know. I miss him too.”

She was running her hand over his silvery fur when the door to the shed crashed back open, Theseus leading the way. The handsome Auror looked suddenly stricken, his freckles vivid against his pale skin.

“What happened?” Tina frowned, sweeping forward. Her sister gaped at her, tears threatening to break loose.

“Teenie-”

“What is it?” she frowned, surveying their worried faces.

“We were walkin' around after seein' to the graphorns, and I had a weird feeling, just thought I'd check -” Jacob swallowed, his large eyes somber. “Well, I – I think I spotted somethin' else that's missin'”

Tina's wand was already in her hand, an instinctive reaction to her heart race increasing. She gazed at him, eyes shifting to take in each pale expression.

“It seems my hunch was correct,” Theseus said solemnly, his normally smooth voice suddenly hoarse. “It appears Grindelwald has almost certainly captured Newt, and plans to try to force him to share covert knowledge-”

“What makes you so sure?” she frowned, her heart pounding.

Jacob glanced at his fiancee before turning to her. “Newt's Obscurial's gone.”

*** * ***

**TWO WEEKS EARLIER**

**La Peluda Parlant - Paris**

“I see your snidget-in-the-broomlights routine is still working out for you.” Leta smirked, leaning in to rest her chin in her hand on the table.

“Yes, I tricked him. He was trafficking runespoors,” Newt said tersely, his gaze on the floor a few feet away. They were sitting at one of the wobbly wooden tables, two glasses of firewhisky placed in front of them. “You said you had a message from Dumbledore?”

“I do.”

“Please don't play games with me, Leta.”

She surveyed him for a moment, before turning her attention to her glass. She wrinkled her nose in distaste, wiping away a layer of dust. “You know what he wants.”

“And he sends you to be his messenger? I never pictured you for playing owl.”

She smiled mischievously, trying to meet his gaze, though he was staring determinedly at the floor. “He knew you couldn't ignore me, Newt. However much you might wish to.” She smirked, swirling a finger around in her drink.

Newt grimaced; right on both counts, unfortunately.

“...Besides, he's already sent his owls,” she continued.

“Yes. And as I've explained to him, I'm happy to tell him what I can. Unfortunately, I'm just too busy to-”

Leta raised her eyebrows, staring flatly back at him. “He wants to _meet_ with you.”

 _It's not me he wants to see_. Newt bit his tongue, saying finally - “Has it occurred to you that stepping foot at Hogwarts again might be somewhat painful for me?”

“...You can't meet him in London?” she asked skeptically, sidestepping the implications.

Newt gritted his teeth. “That's hardly the point.”

“Yes.” She sighed, taking a reluctant sip of her firewhisky. “The point being, of course, that you are irrevocably _damaged_ , and I'm to spend the rest of my life paying for it.”

“Has anyone ever told you that your apologizing skills need work?”

“Yes, in fact, you have. About a half a dozen times now.” She smiled, her dark eyes sparkling in the dim bar light.

“Well, just as long as you're taking this seriously.” He pushed back his drink, finally looking at her. “What do you want?”

Her demeanor was still calm, apathetic, though there was a twinge in her voice now. “Us to be friends again.”

Newt frowned, peering back into his drink. “I'm afraid I don't see that happening.”

Leta scowled, her voice shaking. “You're going to throw away _five years_ of the best friendship you ever had because of-”

“ _I_ didn't throw away anything,” Newt interjected, and for the first time, he sounded truly angry. Leta had the good grace to stay silent.

Newt pursed his lips, still gazing blankly into his glass. “...I would prefer if you didn't try to contact me again,” he said evenly, forcing himself to glance up at her for a moment.

“I guess that's up to Dumbledore,” she said softly, shrugging. Newt frowned, and Leta raised her eyebrows, laughing mirthlessly. “Don't forget, Newt, that you're not the only one he bailed out.”

 _I'm not likely to_ , he thought, glaring at his untouched whisky. Leta paused, her eyes sparkling dangerously as she considered him.

“So who's Tina?” Leta asked suddenly, her tone conversational. Newt nearly knocked over his glass.

“I beg your pardon?”

Leta looked at him calmly, smirking a little as she slipped something out of her pocket. Newt grimaced, watching as she set the red leather-bound book on the table. “A friend,” he said shortly.

“I'm hurt, Newt.” There was teasing in her voice, but something tender about it too. She searched his expression, but he was refusing to look at her.

He stood rather suddenly, the chair slamming heavily against the floor as he nearly unsettled it. “Tell Dumbledore I'll write him soon.” He paused, his chest heaving. “...And that I'm sorry.”

“It doesn't have to be this way.” Her voice was anxious, almost angry.

 _I want it this way_. He avoided her gaze, a wave of nausea rolling over him as he pushed toward the exit.

“ _Newt_ -” she stopped as he reached the door, swallowing before taking a long drink from her glass. Her shoulders shook for a moment, then stilled, her eyes rising steadily to watch the door swing open.

Leta's chin was held high as she watched him leave, and if you did not know her well, you might scarcely have been able to tell she was holding back tears.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: (the French may be wrong btw, lmao, it's not one of my languages – if you know I messed it up and want to correct me, feel free to leave a comment) 
> 
> "Crois-tu lui, Marceau?" - “Can you believe him, Marceau?”  
> “Imbécile” - “Idiot.” (duh)  
> “Oui, je suis stupide. ” - “Yes, I'm stupid.”  
> “Château d'Atlantes” – “Atlantes's castle” (an exclamation, like “Merlin's Beard”)  
> “ces bêtes” – “these beasts”  
> “C'est bien” - “It's fine.”  
> "un sot" – "an idiot"
> 
> Questions? Reactions? Leave me a comment! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update? Finally? Yes, and the next one should be faster, given I've already got it written (and the whole rest of this story sketched out). Hopefully when all is said and done it'll have been worth the wait! <3 
> 
> PS. Please feel free to leave me a comment if you like where this story is going, even if it's only a word or two. c:
> 
> PPS. This is where Whump!Newt really starts, and it'll be extended to varying degrees over the next few chapters. It's not too graphic or extreme (fairly canon-typical), but I just wanted to give you a head's up so you could brace yourselves if need be. <3

A great distance from where his friends had just arrived in his brother's office, a lone figure lay crumpled against a wall, his tawny-colored fringe falling across his forehead. The cell was small and cramped, a heavy layer of earth covering the floor.

He'd lost track of how many days he'd been here. He suspected it was somewhere in the neighborhood of a fortnight, but he couldn't quite be sure; he wavered in and out of consciousness too frequently to be able to reliably judge the passage of time.

He knew something was very wrong, something beyond his inability to separate past and present. It was the _future_ that was weighing down on him so heavily, or rather, the lack of one, as it was becoming increasingly difficult to imagine anyplace that wasn't _here_ , however fervently he was trying.

Newt groaned quietly. His limbs felt as if they'd been set on fire, the result of whatever sadistic tendencies the latest caretaker had inflicted on him. He barely saw their faces anymore, barely heard their words, alternating between that terrible spell and spitting questions at him, questions he couldn't quite understand...

He was starting to think he might go mad here. He'd never felt so hopeless in his life, nor so utterly helpless. _Everything_ hurt, and he was alone, all alone -

 _No._ He wasn't alone.

Her face filled his memory, and the icy prison seemed to suddenly raise thirty degrees.

_He was back at the docks, nearly a year ago now, his eyes drinking her in as he made his way through the crowd. He could feel her warmth as she pulled him into an excited embrace, and the way he'd sunk into her arms as the sea air blew across their faces. She smelled like green tea and milk and honey. Newt grinned, hugging her tighter, scarcely daring to believe his luck._

_Her smile was radiant when they finally pulled apart, and he couldn't help mimicking the gesture he'd made at their last parting. Her hair was soft beneath his fingers, and he beamed back at her, chuckling as he stumbled out a greeting._

“ _It's so wonderful to see you.” She giggled, wiping her eyes, and he felt almost giddy as he stared back at her._

“ _Well?”_

_She was looking at him expectantly, and he could only blink, his eyes wide and wondering._

“ _...Well what?” he said finally, feeling instantly embarrassed._

_Tina laughed, and it was impossible not to stare. She gestured to his suitcase, her voice riddled with excitement. “Did you bring it?”_

_Ah. The book. The entire purpose of the visit. Newt grinned, fumbling in his coat pocket._

_Tina smiled as she accepted the package. It was quite small, wrapped hastily in plain brown paper and tied together with a navy blue ribbon._ _Newt hesitated, watching her. “I must confess - I know we'd agreed it should be my own title, but in the end someone suggested one to me and I just sort of...fell in love with it. After that nothing else would really do.”_

“ _Well, as long as_ you _like it-” she said lightly, smiling as she undid the wrappings. He watched her carefully as she paused, a small gasp escaping her._

“ _You -?”_

_She ran her fingers over the lettering, the tears in her eyes and smile lighting up her face mirroring the last time he'd seen her, on this very dock. Newt held his breath. She had the most beautiful smile. Her whole face lit up when she smiled, her brown eyes soft and warm. When she directed those eyes at him, he felt as if the world had stopped._

“ _I can't believe you used...” she laughed tearfully, her eyes gleaming as she looked up at him. The urge to kiss her barreled through him, and he twitched, forcing himself to look at the ground._

“ _Do you like it?” he asked quietly, the hitch in his voice betraying his nervousness._

“ _It's **wonderful.** Thank you, Newt.” Their gazes caught for entirely too long, and he thought she must be able to hear the pounding of his heart, threatening to burst out of his chest._

“ _I credited you, of course,” he added, smiling awkwardly._

“ _You didn't need to **credit**_ _me...” she blushed, looking gratified._

“ _Of course I did,” he chuckled. “And I wanted to.”_

“... _Thank you,” she repeated, her voice soft._

_Newt hesitated, seeing her start to flip the book open. “Erm.  There's actually a dedication as well – perhaps – perhaps you could read it later though?” he implored. His face was burning, and he knew his freckles must be standing out even more than usual._

“ _A dedication?” she repeated, glancing up at him._

“ _Mmm,” he confirmed, unable to meet her eyes for more than a moment. “You know, an acknowledgements page, in the forward. I thanked some of the people who helped-” he paused, blinking rapidly in quick succession. “You're mentioned,” he added offhand, looking still flustered, but somehow oddly proud._

“ _Alright,” she said softly, beaming up at him._ _“Did you sign it for me?” she added, looking up at him eagerly._

“ _Ah – no,” he laughed firmly, turning red again. “I can honestly say the thought never occurred to me-”_

“ _Well, we should fix that,” she said softly, her voice giving him shivers._

_He smiled shyly, starting to stumble through his oversized pockets. “I think I have a self-inking quill here somewhere-”_

“ _I'll do you one better,” she smirked, offering him an ordinary Muggle pen. “To be honest, sometimes I think the No-Majs don't get nearly enough credit for their sheer ingenuity.”_

“ _A sentiment I've often expressed myself,” he smiled, accepting the pen from her._

_He paused when she turned, then understood; she was offering him use of her back to write on. He watched as she swept her hair out of the way, dipping her head forward to create a sturdier surface. She still wore it short, though he thought she might have let it grow out a few inches in their time apart. He tried to ignore the soft milky surface that had appeared as the hair was brushed away from her long neck, the Muggle instrument feeling oddly rigid in his tensed fingers._

“... _There you go,” he said, handing it back to her as she turned back around. “You are now the owner of the very first copy of Fantastic Beasts, signed and delivered.”_

_Tina bit her lip as she stared down at it, her eyes watery as they drifted over the message he'd inscribed._

_“To Tina, my dearest friend. If this book brings you half the enjoyment you've brought me, I shall consider my work complete._

_With love,_

_Newt Scamander”_

“ _...Thank you,” she said quietly, and she was silent for a few moments as she traced her fingers over his signature._

 _He'd been staring at the ground, unable to look at her, thus was caught utterly by surprise by the sudden presence of her lips on his cheek. His breath caught as he looked up at her, the place where she'd touched him still burning._ _Their gazes met again, and he felt his stomach turn over. He had a nagging feeling it wasn't related to his sea travel._

* * *

Tina yawned, rubbing her eyes. She was exhausted. It was still only late-afternoon in New York, but she felt as if she'd lived through several months since opening Theseus's letter that morning. The words blurred before her eyes as she pored over Newt's journal, searching for hints, anything that might be helpful, trying to convince herself she wasn't just desperate for some piece of his presence.

She knew it was pointless, that nothing here would do much to prepare them for what was to come, or make them any closer to finding him, but it was infinitely preferable to just waiting around. Her father had always said there was no better cure for a broken heart than busy hands, and she was inclined to agree with him. She liked _action_ in the face of distress _;_ it made her feel like she was _doing_ something, made the hours as they waited to hear back from Theseus's contacts somehow more bearable. Sleep was impossible, and she didn't want to join the others. She needed to be alone, to _think_ , to process this.

And so she sat in the modest bedroom, trying not to think too much on her surroundings. It was Newt's bedroom; she had shrugged off Queenie's offer to bunk with her, assuring her that she didn't mind spending the night alone, and that Theseus would not take offense if she and Jacob kept to their usual sleeping arrangements. It was only partially generosity; she didn't want to face Queenie's questions or sympathetic looks, which would somehow make everything worse. Nor did she like the idea of her sister being privy to whatever dreams haunted her tonight, if indeed, she ever managed to succumb to sleep.

The apartment was quiet as Tina skimmed the pages, scribbling notes to herself on a spare bit of parchment. It had been a long, painful day. She'd been able to keep busy for most of it, assisting Theseus with Newt's creatures, who'd needed soothing as much as food and cleaning, but now, with the quiet of nightfall, she was left restless and agitated.

It was another hour before Tina finally set the journal down, laying her head back against the pillow. She instantly regretted it; there was something all too familiar about the earthy, masculine scent that suddenly filled her senses. His whole apartment was flooded with it, but this sudden overwhelming barrage of him made her eyes water.

She sighed, sitting up. Newt's bedroom stared back at her. It was decorated in muted colors, the only part of his home that could be described as such. Browns and blues made up the plush carpet and bedspread, and the walls were lined with bookshelves, tomes of all colors and sizes crammed inside them. A small, faded wardrobe was crammed in the corner, almost as an afterthought. It was not tidy. Tina smiled to herself, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

She rolled over, opening the drawer of the nightstand to stow the journal away, where she wouldn't be tempted to snatch it up again and obsess over the familiar handwriting. A glance inside had her fumbling to extract the sheet of parchment tucked neatly away.

Tina stared, clutching it tightly in her hand.

It was a drawing, a drawing of a dark-haired woman with huge dark eyes and dimpled cheeks. She was smiling demurely, the picture charmed to allow her face to move, sporadically glancing up and shyly away in an endless loop. She heard her breath catch, and was helpless to stop the flow of tears from running down her cheeks.

There was something so much more _intimate_ about this than a few snapshots of her in his study. How long had this taken him to draw? Did he like to look at her before he fell asleep?

She gazed at it for a few minutes in silence, tracing over the carefully etched out lines.

She was being stupid. There was no sense in crying over old pictures; she needed to _sleep_ , needed to be well-rested for whatever came next. She shoved the picture back in the drawer, taking care not to bend or tear it. She closed her eyes, burying her face in her hands.

A sleeping draught. She pushed her hair back, gazing wearily around the room. She'd seen already that Newt kept a verifiable apothecary in his shed, and chances seemed good he'd have all the ingredients.

She was quiet as she climbed out of bed, careful not to make too much noise in case she woke any of the others. She found her way back to the suitcase with only the dim light of her wand, stowing it away as she descended the ladder.

She found everything she needed in minutes, and moved in a daze as she prepared the familiar potion. It was an old routine, reinforced by countless nights of horror-filled dreams. She stifled a yawn as she turned toward the outside, wondering if a walk might do her some good.

And so she set off, stirring the goblet as she waited for the potion to settle. Night had fallen in the case, the creatures settling down into their evening routines. The only sounds were a faint braying of the erumpent in her enclosure, and in the distance, something that might have been birdsong. Tina was quiet as she listened, her spirits lifting as she took in the soothing melody.

“Tina?”

She started, turning toward the voice. Theseus was sitting with his back to the hippogriff meadow, his lap and the surrounding red dock covered with what looked to be half the contents of Newt's office. “Hello,” she said uncertainly, approaching him with a shy smile.

He smiled back. “Couldn't sleep?” he guessed, nodding to the potion. They exchanged a glance, a sense of mutual understanding passing between them.

“Looks like I'm not the only one,” she replied, her gaze traveling over the various notebooks and scraps of parchment that had littered Newt's shed.

“Would you like to join me?” he asked, clearing a spot for her. She sat down in silence, reaching absently for some of the papers.

“...Well, hello there.”

Tina glanced up, spotting a handsome golden-brown hippogriff drawing closer. She'd met him earlier during their rounds, and she met his gaze for a moment before he ducked his head, nuzzling Theseus's cheek. Theseus laughed, stroking him affectionately.

“Marvelous creatures,” he said fondly, rubbing his nose against the creature's beak. “My mother breeds them, you know.”

“Yes, I – Newt told me,” she explained, smiling sheepishly.

Theseus smiled, glancing over at her. “He mentioned he'd found one a few months back, injured and abandoned somewhere in Greece,” he added. “He told me its name, but I can't quite -”

“Henry,” Tina supplied, patting the creature's neck. Theseus glanced at her again, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“You certainly do keep in touch, don't you?” he asked lightly, watching her carefully.

Tina blushed, keeping her eyes on the creature between them. “I guess we do,” she admitted.

Theseus was silent for a moment, considering her. “...Tina,” he said tentatively, tilting his head slightly to the side. “May I ask you a personal question?”

“I guess it depends on what it is,” she chuckled, not quite meeting his gaze.

Theseus's eyes were serious as he pushed forward. “What exactly is the nature of your relationship with my brother?”

Tina faltered, feeling her face suddenly grow warm. “What do you mean?” she asked, trying to laugh it off.

He shrugged, refusing to relent. “He dedicated his book to you,” he pointed out, raising his eyebrows.

“Along with several other people,” she replied quickly.

“ _Two_ other people,” Theseus corrected, smiling mildly. “And as even yours truly didn't make the list, I think it's reasonable to conclude those who did have a very special significance to my baby brother.”

Tina hesitated, struggling to come up with an answer. “...We're close,” she said softly, after a long pause. She felt something prickling at her eyes again, and had to look away. Her face felt very hot.

Theseus smiled, looking almost amused. “Miss Tina,” he said gently, giving her a very pointed look.

She flushed, averting her gaze. “We - ”

“I see.” Theseus turned away, staring off into the expanse of the case. He said nothing more, merely returning to the documents he'd been poring over, his eyes not really seeing. Neither spoke for several minutes, and after awhile Tina fumbled to pick up one of the scraps of parchment, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

They worked in silence for awhile, Tina's sleeping potion forgotten beside her. Henry the hippogriff had curled up at their feet, looking almost like a dog as he played with a stray chicken bone.

She started feeling herself grow drowsy, and realized with a start she'd been staring at the same newspaper clipping for several minutes without absorbing anything. Theseus glanced up, just in time to see her chuckle as she realized just how true that statement was.

“Find something interesting?” he asked.

“I'm not sure,” she responded honestly, still smiling. “Do you happen to speak French?”

“Of course,” he said courteously, reaching for the article. He leaned forward, his lanky frame stooping over the parchment. He paused a few words in, his expression growing heavier as he continued.

“What is it?” she asked uncertainly.

He gazed back at her, his freckles even starker than usual against his pale face.

“Read this, tell me what you think.” He pulled his wand from his pocket, his eyes scanning the article again as he created a translation of the text.

She frowned, straightening the copy over her lap. It read:

“ _Aurors were miffed today by reports of a mysterious black cloud spotted hovering on the edges of Beauxbatons. Naturally, the immediate worry was of Dementors, though British officials assure us that none have been reported missing, nor were any assigned to be in the area. Beauxbatons' Transfiguration professor, Celina Lefebvre, who witnessed the strange event, had this to say...”_

She looked up, understanding immediately. “Do you think Newt was searching for an Obscurial?”

“It makes the situation all the more urgent, if he was. If Grindelwald's gotten his hands on a genuine Obscurus-” He scanned the article again, looking troubled. “There's no date,” he muttered, disappointed.

“Newt was in France two months ago,” Tina remembered.

“Did you mention anything to you?” he added, throwing her a glance.

She glanced back at him, rubbing her arms as she felt a sudden chill.

“No,” she said quietly, her face falling into a frown. “He didn't.”

  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit repetitive, sorry. Speaking of Transfiguration Professors, though, the next chapter will feature another one of those, *hint hint.*
> 
> PS. The drawing of Tina she finds in Newt's desk is based on this lovely gif.  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took a few days to post, I've been busy with life (yesterday was my birthday! I'm officially a dinosaur). I hope you enjoy! <3

The first thing Tina noticed about the pub was the smell. It had a strange, perverse odor, a bizarre mixture of liquor, smoke, and something that reminded her of visits to her grandparents' farm. She looked around, careful not to make eye contact with any of the hooded men lining the bar. The whole room was barely bigger than her living room, yet there were at least a dozen tables crammed inside it, making the concentration of seedy figures all the more potent. The floors housed enough dirt to grow grass, if anyone cared to plant some.

“Jeez, what a dive,” Jacob muttered, coming to stand beside her.

Tina said nothing, her mind on other matters. The man they were here to meet was probably their single, best hope of saving Newt, and she had no intention of letting the opportunity slip by.

“Well, come on, then,” Theseus grimaced, leading them forward. They followed him across the pub, stopping only when they reached a small, grime-covered table in the back corner. A middle-aged wizard sat waiting for them, his expression heavy as he flipped through what looked like an ordinary No-Maj knitting magazine. He glanced up as they approached.

“Theseus,” he said quietly, climbing to his feet. His blue eyes twinkled, and Tina saw a rare smile light up Theseus's narrow face as he moved toward the older man. They embraced briefly, before Dumbledore turned those intense blue eyes on her.

“It is a tragedy that we had to meet this way,” he said softly, extending his hand. “I've read, of course, about your work, and your encounter with Grindelwald. It is a pleasure, Miss Goldstein.” He gave a small bow, his auburn beard nearly grazing the ground. Tina could only stare.

As an Auror, she'd been trained in concealment and disguise, about the importance of stealth and subterfuge. Gazing at the wizard before them, she couldn't help thinking she'd never met someone quite so ill-suited to the concept.

Albus Dumbledore was dressed in dark magenta robes, his sleeves adorned with silver spangles and topped off with a matching hat spattered with moons and stars. He wore his hair long, with a sweeping beard that reached nearly to his navel. Tina had felt a small shiver upon stepping into his presence; there was something almost innately magical about this man, which went far deeper than his extravagant wardrobe.

His words catching up with her, Tina faltered, her eyes going wide. “Thank you,” she mumbled, hastening to accept his handshake. “I've – um. I've heard of you too.” She stopped, her face turning red. Dumbledore looked amused.

“And this is Miss Goldstein's sister Queenie, and Queenie's fiance, Mr. Jacob Kowalski,” Theseus said smoothly, hiding his smile as he continued with the introductions. “Queenie, Jacob – allow me to present Professor Albus Dumbledore.”

Dumbledore nodded politely. “It is lovely to make your acquaintance, however unfortunate the circumstances,” he said, offering his hand to both in turn. He exchanged a quick glance with Theseus, quirking his brow. “But perhaps it would be best if we moved into a private parlor,” he suggested.

“I think that is an excellent idea,” Theseus agreed.

Dumbledore exchanged a few words with the barman, and a few minutes later they were stepping into one of the upstairs lodgings. Tina paused in the threshold.

They were standing in either a very small bedroom, or a fairly large closet. There was scarcely enough room to fit a shabby one-man bed, though with a wave of his wand, Dumbledore set to expanding it, the furniture flying and flurrying until they were looking at a pleasant little sitting room, with a small round table in the center and five plush chintz armchairs. Dumbledore waved his wand once more, and a plate of sandwiches appeared, and with flick of his wrist had conjured a flagon of pumpkin juice and five silver goblets.

“There. That's better.” He settled down on one of the more flowery cushions, surveying them all intently. “Please,” he added, after they'd all taken their seats. “Enlighten me as to how I might help.”

Theseus paused, clearing his throat as he attempted to sit upright in his chair and failing magnificently. “It is my understanding that you were in correspondence with my brother before his disappearance.”

“Quite,” Dumbledore nodded, fingering his goblet. “He was sharing information he thought might be useful in aiding the anti-Grindelwald movement.”

Theseus frowned. “Forgive me,” he said courteously. “But did you not think that sort of sensitive material would have been better off not put in writing?”

“On the contrary, I did, and I confess I sought Newt out many times in the past several months.”

“And he refused?” Theseus asked, looking pensive.

“He did,” Dumbledore said. “Although he always had any number of excuses – his work schedule, travel, and so on.” He paused. “To be perfectly honest, I was starting to get the impression he was avoiding me, and eventually I was forced to resort to other means to attempt to gain his attention.”

“How do you mean?” Theseus asked, leaning forward.

“I requested an old school friend track him down a fortnight ago, but she was unsuccessf-”

“You didn't.” Theseus's cordial manner had slipped away; he looked suddenly alarmed.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, looking mildly surprised at Theseus's harsh tone. “Miss Lestrange was in my debt. I knew they had been close; when I mentioned to her I was having difficultly tracking him down in person, she was quite adamant about having the opportunity to try.”

Theseus slumped backward in his chair, pursing his lips. “Well, that answers that. Newt took one look and made a run for it,” he said dryly.

Tina was silent, avoiding Queenie's concerned gaze.

A lump had risen in her throat, but she pushed it firmly away, forcing herself to keep her mind on the task at hand. Theseus was rubbing his temples beside her. “I beg your pardon. This is not the time for such things,” he said heavily, though he still looked quite troubled.

Dumbledore surveyed him curiously. “It is I who should apologize, I did not realize they were so out of sorts. She seemed eager to take on the assignment, and given that she now lives in the country he was staying in at the time, it seemed the natural choice.”

Theseus's brow furrowed as Dumbledore's words sunk in. “Do you mean - Newt was still in France two weeks ago?” he asked quizzically.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore assented. “I believe he was making regular trips back and forth, given his responsibilities at the Ministry, but to the best of my knowledge he was still spending significant amounts of time there, studying some sort of creature.”

Tina frowned at this, exchanging a glance with Theseus. He cleared his throat, eyeing Dumbledore shrewdly. “'Some sort of creature?'” he repeated, raising his eyebrows. Dumbledore paused, looking at him expectantly. “An Obscurus,” Theseus said baldly, and Dumbledore paled.

“I wasn't aware-”

“We have reason to believe he was tracking one there. He never mentioned that to you?”

“I assure you, he didn't,” Dumbledore murmured, looking deeply unhappy.

Theseus hesitated, clasping his hands. “Professor, I believe – and the others agree – that Grindelwald is behind Newt's disappearance.”

Dumbledore stared. “What makes you say this?” he asked sharply.

“There's several lines of evidence pointing that way. Everything seems to suggest Newt has been imprisoned in Nurmengard, being held captive until he gives Grindelwald vital information about how to control and manipulate Obscurials to his advantage.”

Dumbledore shot him a very piercing look. “I must warn you,” he said in a low voice. “If you are thinking of mounting some sort of rescue-”

“Of course we are,” Theseus said simply. “And every one of us knows what that entails.” He straightened in his chair, his eyes blazing. “That doesn't mean we're going to rush in willy-nilly, however, which is why we've asked you here. We need information, and I think there are some relevant questions you're the only one who can answer for us.”

“...I see,” Dumbledore whispered, lacing his long fingers together and surveying him over the tips.

Theseus paused, appearing to lose his nerve. “I'm afraid I must press you on what I'm sure is a very delicate subject,” he said carefully.

“Please, then, my dear man, ask,” Dumbledore said quietly. He still looked very white, and Tina felt Queenie straighten beside her, her eyes darting anxiously between the two men. Tina had tensed in her chair, watching the conversation unfold with fascination. She felt a wave of uncertainty when she caught sight of her sister's expression: Queenie looked _shocked_ , scared, even.

Theseus took a moment to continue, looking hesitant. “You must realize, of course, that it is a very poorly kept secret amongst us Aurors that you -” he stopped, appearing immensely reluctant to go on.

“Yes?” Dumbledore asked primly, his expression politely neutral.

Theseus shot him a rather harassed-looking glance. “That is to say, that you and Grindelwald had developed a sort of – friendship, of sorts, at one time.”

“So it is,” Dumbledore said softly, nodding his head. Tina stared at him, her heart suddenly racing. Whatever 'poorly-kept secret' might have been making the rounds in England, it certainly hadn't made it across the Atlantic. She stared down at the table, her brow furrowing, trying to reconcile this news with the Dumbledore she'd read about, the hero upon whom Newt had heaped such affectionate praise. She couldn't.

Theseus leaned forward, his voice low. “Surely you understand why you might be able to provide valuable insight into his plans, his way of thinking-”

“I promise you, I have always been forthcoming when the Ministry has interrogated into my past.” Dumbledore's tone was polite, but Tina thought she heard a sharpness in his voice now. A chill seemed to have emanated through the room.

“Of course,” Theseus said quickly, with an uncomfortable nod. “But you must understand, I have an obligation to pursue every potential avenue of information available to me,” he said, his voice breaking. “Newt's -” he paused, and Tina shot him a glance from where she'd been staring at the table. For the first time since she'd met him, Theseus looked truly emotional, as if he might crumple at any moment. “He's my little brother.”

Dumbledore was quiet, and she was startled to see his eyes, too, welled with tears. “I quite understand,” he said softly. He looked down, contemplating his hands. “I'm not sure how much I can do to help,” he murmured, after a moment.

Theseus paused, watching him carefully. “Well,” he said calmly. “Let's find out.”

* * *

“So? What did you think?” Tina whispered, as they walked up the steps back to Newt's building. Ahead of them, Theseus and Jacob were deep in conversation, speaking in low voices as they compared experiences from the war. Queenie paused, looking pensive.

“I'm not sure,” she said softly. Tina flashed her a glance.

“Didn't you get anything off him?” she asked curiously. Queenie might still struggle with reading British accents, but she usually still got flashes of insight, most often in the form of images or emotions the person was experiencing. Yet she'd been oddly quiet since leaving the pub ten minutes before, and seemed to have sunk more and more into herself as their discussion with Dumbledore had worn on.

Queenie hesitated, looking troubled. “Nothing specific. He's got good Occlumency skills.” She brushed her curls back, blinking rapidly.

Tina watched her with concern, searching her eyes. “What is it?”

Queenie winced. “It's – I'm not sure, exactly. I think something awful happened to him, I just can't work out what. But he's got this _ache_ to him he can't quite hide.”

“What about when Theseus brought up Grindelwald?” Tina touched her sister's elbow, her expression serious. “Can we trust him?”

“He's scared of 'im,” Queenie murmured, looking almost as surprised by her words as Tina felt. She'd always heard the opposite; it was common knowledge that Grindelwald had as yet refrained from seeking a foothold in Britain largely out of fear of the very wizard they'd just met. “I know,” Queenie confessed, picking up on her train of thought. “It surprised me too. Something _terrified_ him, though. I don't know how he's gonna react, if he comes face-to-face with him.” Tina stared, thinking hard.

“You ladies comin'?” Jacob called, hesitating outside Newt's door. They nodded, hurrying to catch up.

Newt's flat was exactly as they left it, the only sound a faint creaking of the pipes. Tina was lost in thought as she closed the door behind them, not wanting to consider the idea that had lodged itself so firmly in her mind.

“I'm going to head back to the Ministry for a few hours, see what I can't find out,” Theseus announced, straightening his tie in the hall mirror. “I shouldn't be gone long. When I get back I'd like to work out a list, combine everything we know about the prison and work out a strategy. Perhaps start planning out a diversion that might hold off Grindelwald himself while we take out the guards.”

“We'll start coming up with ideas,” Tina promised, already pulling out a notepad.

“This might be a stupid question,” Queenie said timidly, and they all turned to glance at her. “But what about talkin' to some of the folks who tried to break-in before? I know there weren't any survivors, but there might still be people who were working on the inside, doin' research or something-”

“It's not stupid at all, that's exactly what I planned on doing,” Theseus commented, looking faintly impressed. “I don't know if their information will be particularly relevant at this point, but there might be some nuggets of wisdom that prove useful.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “What we _really_ need is an insider, someone who knows the lay of the land,” he admitted, after a few second's heavy silence.

“Don't you guys have spies, or nothin'?” Jacob piped up, glancing between them. Tina and Theseus exchanged a look.

“The problem is, it's very difficult to infiltrate the inner ranks,” Theseus explained. “Grindelwald is notoriously suspicious, particularly of Brits. We _have_ had a couple of people on the inside in the past, but they were discovered and murdered after the last attempt to invade Nurmengard. We've also had to be careful of who to trust ourselves, as we've had a few incidents with defectors and double agents that have backfired in Grindelwald's favor.”

Jacob fell silent, looking disheartened. Tina paused, wiping her damp palms on the legs of her trousers as she contemplated what she was about to say. She'd thought about it for nearly an hour now, ever since Dumbledore had broached the subject, and each minute just made the unpleasant mixture of certainty and apprehension weigh a little heavier upon her mind, until she thought she might collapse from the burden of it. She saw Queenie turn toward her, looking concerned.

“Honey?” she murmured, squeezing her hand. “You sure you wanna-?”

Tina blinked, her eyes burning. No, she didn't 'want' to, but she was sure of her decision. The very idea made her feel sick, but she saw little way around it. If there was even a chance it might help them, that it could ultimately make the the difference between _saving him_ and _not_ , then there was nothing to decide. Theseus and Jacob had turned at Queenie's remark, watching the unspoken conversation with varying levels of confusion.

“I have an idea,” Tina stated, avoiding her sister's gaze. “There's someone who might know something, or who might at least have the resources to find out.” Tina's mouth had gone dry. She straightened her shoulders, her dark eyes boring into Theseus's blue ones. He looked at her warily.

“I think we need to go to France.”

* * *

_It was very late. The Goldsteins' flat was dark, as he'd expected, and Newt was careful to keep silent as he crept delicately through the sitting room, his wand held up beside him to light the way._

_He found his coat easily, draped across the settee just as he'd left it, and a peek in the pocket was enough to solve the mystery of his missing notebook. He flipped through it absently, stifling a yawn, turning only when he thought he heard a slight snore._

_Newt hesitated before raising his wand, the light falling gradually on the recliner in the corner. A pair of legs stuck out from the bottom, still in their stockings. Newt tilted his head, raising the wand tentatively a few additional inches, then smiled at the sight before him._

_Tina was slumped over the arm of the chair, her dark hair fanning across her face. In her lap was a thin red leather book, left open with her finger still marking her place. She was, indeed, snoring lightly, and the sound made Newt chuckle; he raised his hand quickly to muffle the noise. She didn't stir, even as he gently took the book from her hands, placing it carefully on the end table. He watched her for a moment, holding his breath, before conjuring a thin blanket to slip over her. She shifted when he tucked it in over her shoulders, and he felt a moment of uncertainty before she gave another soft snore. Newt grinned._

_His hand was inches from her face, deliberating whether he might stroke her hair, before he let it drop, sighing quietly. Tina slept peacefully on, oblivious to both her visitor's presence and absence as Newt stepped back into his case._

A scraping sound broke through his reverie, and Newt jolted back to consciousness. The great stone door was swinging open, the sleeve of a cloak appearing around the edge. He climbed to his feet immediately, the binds yanking on his wrists as a tall, thinly-robed figure stepped into the room.

“So.”

Newt tensed, recognizing the voice. As best as he could tell, it had been almost a day since he'd last had a visitor; in hindsight, he should have suspected something was amiss. He hadn't had so long a reprieve since arriving here nearly a fortnight ago.

“I must say, I'm disappointed.” The cold voice was harsh, only a trace of an Eastern European accent discernible in his words. Newt didn't respond, trying to ignore the prickle of fear coursing through him. He could feel the strange, discoloured eyes burning into him, though he refused to look up.

Gellert Grindelwald was leaning against the door, looking almost lazy. Newt could see him out of the corner of his eye, fingering a long, ancient-looking wand as he surveyed him.

“Very disappointed,” he continued. “You told Stepanov that if we returned your creatures, you would cooperate.”

Newt ignored him, scarcely able to concentrate on anything besides the pounding of his head. Grindelwald watched him silently for a moment, still twirling his wand between his fingers. “I have travelled a very long way to see you, you know.”

Newt exhaled, blinking rapidly at the floor. “Yes, it seems we've both been inconvenienced,” he muttered, with a shadow of a smirk.

Grindelwald stepped closer, gazing at him intently. “I'm glad to see you're managing to keep your spirits up,” he said. “I wonder, though, if it's entirely appropriate?” He paused, a glint arising in his eyes. “Do you know, I had to punish poor Stepanov, for failing me? It was...not pleasant.”

Newt squinted at the stone floor, refusing to look at him. Grindelwald raised his eyebrows. “Does this not make you feel guilty?” he asked mildly; he might have been asking about the weather. “You are a very different man than I imagined, Mr. Scamander. I thought honesty and protecting the innocent were important to wizards such as yourself.”

“I would not consider your guard particularly 'innocent,'” Newt grumbled, knowing instantly he would pay for his cheek.

Grindelwald merely laughed. “Very well,” he said smoothly, nodding to himself. “There are other ways,” he added, raising his wand. “Let's see if you hold up so well against me as you did that idiot.”

“Well, at least we're in agreement on one matter,” Newt spat, finally meeting the older man's gaze. If he was to be tortured beyond all dignity, he would prefer to show at least some mettle while he still could.

Grindelwald paused, considering him with a twisted little smile. “You're a funny man, Mr. Scamander,” he whispered. “And a talented wizard. It's a shame about your politics.” He aimed his wand.

_“Imperio!”_

Newt went limp, his shoulders sagging as suddenly all the weight lifted from his body. Grindelwald stepped closer; their faces were inches from each other.

“Tell me,” he said softly. Newt stared at him, feeling the despair that had grown stronger each passing day suddenly wiped clear. Grindelwald's face was calm, earnest, and for the first time in weeks, Newt felt all his worries disappear.

 _'Tell me about the Obscurials. Tell me, friend.'_ A soothing voice had trickled through his mind, gentle and reassuring. Newt blinked, feeling oddly serene.

Yes. The Obscurials. There was something there, the word _meant_ something to him.

A vision of a girl arose before his eyes, her face hidden in her arms as she huddled inside a prison cell.

NO.

Newt gasped, having bitten hard enough on his tongue to draw blood. He'd started to shake, trembling with the effort to keep his mouth closed. Another voice had joined the first, shouting that he mustn't talk, mustn't say anything, though he couldn't quite discern why.

Why was he resisting? Why wasn't he helping the nice man? Didn't he care about the girl?

 _'Tell me,'_ the voice repeated, tickling against his ear. _'Tell me, so you can feel like this forever. Calm. At peace. I want to help you. I want to help them.'_

The girl. Yes, he'd needed to help her. Something itched in the back of his mind, an inner battle raging within him. She was dying! They needed to _do_ something! Or had she already died? He needed to tell him, but what? What had been so important? He looked up at him imploringly, silently begging him not to let them hurt her. Grindelwald stared back at him, his eyes shining strangely.

' _Tell me_.'

“...I - can't,” he murmured, blinking back tears.

“You will,” Grindelwald snarled, his voice losing all signs of mirth. “ _Imperio!”_

“ _I CAN'T!_ ” he shouted, breathing harshly. His face was flushed, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I – _can't_.” He was shaking violently, his head feeling like it might explode. “I can't...I don't remember,” Newt whispered, suddenly hating himself. He'd done something terrible, though he wasn't sure what.

“How can you not remember?” Grindelwald hissed.

Newt was silent.

“Fine,” he snapped, his chest heaving. “I wanted to do this nicely, but if you insist on resorting to less civilized means-” Grindelwald's face had turned ugly, his handsome features distorting into a sadistic grimace.

_“CRUCIO!”_

Newt screamed, flailing madly against his binds. He felt like he'd been set on fire, though the tears leaking from his eyes did nothing, _nothing_ to soothe the burning...

“Tell me.”

Newt howled. He was dying, yet death would not come. His muscles jerked, the iron cuffs tearing into his skin.

“Tell me.”

He couldn't see; his vision had turned red-hot. Pain ripped through him, wiping away everything else. But he mustn't speak, mustn't explain. There was someone he needed to protect...

“...You know I don't want to do this, Mr. Scamander,” Grindelwald said several minutes later, once the screaming had died down. Newt hung loosely from his chains, struggling for breath. “I have no desire to hurt you.”

_Funny, not something one normally would expect to hear in the middle of being tortured._

The thought came from nowhere, and Newt faltered, staring up at the taller man. The odd, blank-like feeling had diminished with his agonized screams, and something seemed to suddenly nag at him, a realization of his present condition. _Don't listen to him_. It was Theseus's voice, the voice he'd used back in their Hogwarts days when Newt had been upset about the other children bullying him. It was a voice of conviction, of resistance in the face of one's tormenters.

“How did you subdue the Obscurial you had in your case?” Grindelwald asked harshly, beginning to pace back and forth across the room. “You are only delaying the inevitable, Mr. Scamander. I have no desire to keep you locked up. You could tell me what I wish to know, and be back with your creatures before morning. You have my word – a word it seems is better than your own.”

Newt was silent, staring at the floor. He thought he knew what must be coming, and tried desperately to wipe his mind, as Theseus had taught him the year before.

“I have shown you incredible patience,” Grindelwald whispered, still pacing before him. “Do you know how many men have died within these walls?”

Part of him hoped to be one of them. The other part was imagining a dark-haired woman, smiling at him across a kitchen table as her sister busied herself at the stove. Newt's chest swelled.

“I don't appreciate being lied to,” Grindelwald said quietly, his cloak dragging behind him. He stopped, turning. “Of course, there are ways to distinguish between lies and truth,” he added thoughtfully. He raised his wand.

“Look at me.”

Newt refused, his eyes firmly planted on the ground. Grindelwald seethed, brandishing his wand.

“I said, LOOK AT ME! _Imperio!_ ”

That wonderful weightlessness had returned, though he was prepared for it this time. He managed to resist for a few heart-stopping seconds, then gasped as a pain almost as terrible as he'd endured moments before suddenly ripped through his spine. He shuddered, panting, and a moment later found himself looking into those horrible eyes.

Grindelwald's face glowed with triumph, stroking his wand almost lovingly along Newt's temple. “ _Legilimens,_ ” he whispered.

Newt went rigid. A flood of images had erupted in his mind; _He was in a shop, restocking some ingredients for his greenhouse, and a faint whine from the next room caused him to turn. It sounded like a kneazle, or perhaps even an ordinary cat, though what could be causing it such grief, he didn't know....Newt was sneaking down a hall into a backroom, eyes peeled for any sign of the source of the injured cries. He came into what looked like a stockroom, lighting his wand to enable him to search better....A laugh broke through the room, and the cries stopped as suddenly as if he'd flipped a switch. Newt's face turned white as he spotted the man bearing down on him. He turned in mid-air, preparing to Disapparate, but it was like moving through concrete. He was trapped....Wands were flashing, sparks filling the room as the shop rang out with the sound of breaking glass. Chaos erupted as a green, bat-shaped figure arose in the air, his vine-like appendages striking. Grindelwald dodged the attack, sending a curse hurling back at it....The Swooping Evil dove, spitting in the man's face. Grindelwald howled, caught unawares. Newt stared at it, an idea forming in his mind. He whistled, and the creature spun toward him. He nodded once, quickly, and then it was rearing up, venom sinking into his skin._

“What's this?” a voice asked quietly, and suddenly the images were gone, leaving them alone in the cell again. Grindelwald stared at him, lowering his wand. Newt was trembling, understanding washing over him.

“It appears I owe you an apology,” he whispered, his eyes shining. “...Swooping Evil venom,” he murmured, a smile lighting up his face. Newt closed his eyes, feeling his blood run cold.

Grindelwald stepped forward, breathing harshly. “A relatively obscure substance, until recent years,” he said softly. He lifted Newt's fringe with the stick of his wand, allowing him to see him better. “I believe in the time since, however, a potion has become developed, to reverse the effects,” he continued. “Am I correct, Mr. Scamander?”

Newt bowed his head, refusing to respond, and listened as that horrid laugh once again filled his ears.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up around here. :o Don't forget to leave a comment if you're interested in where this is going. <3 By the way, you can also keep up with my updates on Tumblr if that's your thing (it's the same url as my username, [amandasarmada](amandasarmada.tumblr.com)). xoxox


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the heavy-handed angst and fluff in the chapter, but Newt's in pretty extreme circumstances right now, and it's made him a bit loopy, LOL.
> 
> This chapter marks the last of the flashback scenes, and includes the reveal of Newt's expulsion. Let me know what you think, and if you have similar or differing headcanons for what went down. <3

It started with a laugh. Her voice echoed across the years, deep and rich and full of joy. Newt flinched, cowering away from it.

“No,” he murmured. “Please no.”

The room was cold, terribly cold, yet he could feel a bead of sweat trickling down his brow. He thought he might be sick. _“...Please,”_ he muttered, twitching violently. “Please, I _can't,_ I-”

Grindelwald paused, his laughter mingling with the one seared into his brain. Newt's head dropped to his chest.

It had been two weeks of torture, mere hours since Grindelwald had forced the foul potion to his lips. The minutes stretched on and on, each one bringing new revelations, horrors he thought he'd escaped forever. There was an internal struggle going on inside his mind, a battle for survival raging, desperate for any semblance of control. His strength was fading fast, wiped out of him from hunger and exhaustion and days of finding himself at the mercy of people whose only talents were to inflict pain.

Grindelwald smiled, pointing his wand to Newt's temple. His multi-colored eyes were lit with a mad sort of excitement. _“Legilimens!”_

Newt groaned as she appeared before him, watching as the face he'd tried to scrape clean from his memory suddenly sprang, unbidden, into his psyche. She giggled, twisting around to get a better look at him, and Newt shivered as he felt wisps of cool forest air wash over him. She'd been so young, not even sixteen, with more ambition and nerve than she knew what to do with.

_Her lovely face, sharp and smoky, was gazing curiously around a tree in the Forbidden Forest, waiting for him. They both loved this place, where they could explore freely, safe from the prying, staring, sneering students that roamed the grounds. It was quiet here, the only company that of the decidedly non-human variety. She was sitting cross-legged below a gnarled oak, the trees providing much-appreciated protection from the scorching June sun._

_He settled down beside her, the knarl pup she'd been petting trotting over to climb into his lap. He grinned as the creature set to licking his face, ducking his head as he watched her pull her OWL practice paper from her bag._

_“Here, quiz me.”_

_Newt's attentions were elsewhere, however. He watched in mild amazement as the knarl scrambled up the tree, its paws working expertly as it climbed ever higher. He'd never seen such a thing before; the hedgehog-like creature liked to burrow, it wasn't an arboreal species in the slightest. “...What have you done to him?” he murmured, his brows knitting as he watched its progress._

_“It's a Restorative Draught,” she said lightly, giggling as she watched it scurry across a branch. “Or an altered formula, anyway. It bolsters his strength and immune system, see?”_

_Newt was equal parts fascinated and uncertain as he continued to stare at it, his expression slightly dubious. “What about his resilience? Wouldn't that accelerate his aging?”_

_“Not by much,” she shrugged, tossing her hair back. “And the gains far outweigh the drawbacks. Quality over quantity, don't you think?” Leta grinned, looking immensely pleased with herself._

_Newt gave a noncommittal hum, craning his head to get a better look. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked, watching it curiously. He wasn't exactly concerned, per se, but there was a twinge of unease in his stomach he was finding increasingly difficult to ignore._

_Leta laughed, throwing him a scandalized look. “I'm helping them!”_

_Newt hesitated, looking sheepish. “Of course,” he said quickly. “I know you are.” He smiled, ducking his head. “I just - I just meant it might be better to test it on yourself first, is all...I wouldn't mind trying some, if you need multiple subjects.” He glanced at her expectantly. Leta rolled her eyes, giggling impatiently._

_“I already know how it affects humans, I just fiddled with the ingredients a bit. Need I remind you, I am about to get an 'Outstanding' on my Potions OWL?” she asked confidently, brandishing her homework at him. “Slughorn said it's a cert.”_

_“And that is brilliant, truly.” Newt smiled, pausing before he pressed on. “I'm just not quite sure-”_

_“You worry too much,” Leta interrupted, her voice a sing-song._

_Newt laughed. “I only worry about_ _**two**_ _things,” he informed her, looking at her affectionately_ _._ _“Creatures, and_ **you.”**

_“Everybody worries about me,” she smirked._

Newt gasped, his heart pounding.

There were tears streaming down his face, his chest wracking with sobs. _**No,**_ he pleaded, though whether or not he spoke the words aloud he would never know. He groaned, rolling his head back against the wall. For a moment he could see Grindelwald's face again, then it grew dimmer as the memory flickered back into sight.

_It was cooler here in the forest, yet remnants of the summer heat still managed to weave its way through the trees. He'd slipped his cloak off half an hour ago, his yellow Hufflepuff tie draped loosely around his neck._

_Leta had stretched out across the forest floor, yawning_ _as she fanned herself with tendrils of chilled air from her wand._ _Newt had just finished helping her with her revision; he felt pleasantly sleepy, listening as Leta engaged in her favorite past time – complaining about one of her classmates._

_“He deserves it, you know,” she said loftily, closing her eyes as she rested her head against the base of the tree. She'd made a pillow out of his abandoned cloak. “I'm not the only one he bullies.”_

_“I'm not sure anyone_ _**'deserves'** _ _to be attacked by an angry creature,” Newt said gently, smirking down at her._

 _“HE_ _does,” she said stubbornly, crossing her arms._

_Newt paused, still smiling. “You wouldn't really do it, of course.”_

_“Why not? I'd love to see his face, the little weasel...” Newt raised his eyebrows. “Alright, maybe not a_ **_chimera_ ,”** _Leta giggled._

_“Yes, something harmless, like a hippogriff,” he teased._

_“Malfoy, mauled by a hippogriff,” she said dreamily,_ _a lazy smile flickering across her face_ _. “Wouldn't **that** be a sight.”_

“ _No_ ,” Newt moaned, his face contorting with pain. _No._ He wasn't reliving that. He wasn't. He doubled over, fighting his binds as his body tried to heave up the contents of his empty stomach.

“This isn't the first time you've used it, is it?” Grindelwald asked softly, taking a step closer. He was leering at him, his eyes searching out his face. Newt didn't answer, his head still bowed.

“I can _see_ it, the venom is seeped across your memory, like a veil. Everything I want is buried underneath, waiting, if only I can dig through whatever pathetic _nonsense_ you've got piled on top.” Grindelwald stared at him, his eyes shining. “...The potion is toxic in high doses,” he said thoughtfully, stroking his chin. “Perhaps I will have to wait a few more days to unravel your secrets,” he whispered longingly, gazing hungrily at him. Newt glared back, his eyes revealing only hatred. Grindelwald chuckled, stepping backward. “I _will_ unravel them, though, Mr. Scamander.”

Newt closed his eyes, listening as Grindelwald crossed the room, hearing the door close with a scraping sound a second later. He groaned weakly, tears streaking down his face as he tried to blink away the remnants still burned into his brain. Flashes were lingering in his mind, like echoes of a nightmare. He could feel sleep threatening to take him, but he mustn't fall asleep, not now, not when his mind was full of such dreadful memories.

He didn't want to dream about _that_. Not when there were such nicer things to think about, things that had kept him sane, memories he'd plucked like magic from a sea of pain and despair.

And at that, another face burst forth in his mind, clear and bright as sunshine. He was back at the docks, basking in that wonderful afternoon, watching as the spring gust made the bottom of her skirt dance in the wind.

He wondered if he was going to die here, die without ever having told her. He didn't even care if his affections were returned anymore; he just wanted her to _know,_ know that someone _saw_ her, someone loved her for everything she was.

Every inch of him hurt, but gazing on her, Newt thought it might be possible that it hurt a little _less._ It wasn't much, perhaps, but he clung to the thought like a life raft.

“It's so wonderful to see you.” Tina giggled, wiping away a stray tear.

Newt stared at the woman before him, her dark eyes swelling with affection. It was his very best memory – she was incandescent, smiling beautifully at him as he stroked her hair.

Except things were different now – Newt felt his heart start to race as his hand drifted slowly across her head, daringly framing her face with his palm. He gave a shaky sigh, pulling her closer as he allowed himself to meet her gaze head-on. Tina smiled sweetly, raising her own hand to cup his cheek.

“...You're gonna be okay, you know.”

Newt gazed at her in wonder. A pair of wide brown eyes faced him, gentle and reassuring. “I know,” she whispered soothingly, her finger brushing over his lip. Her other hand found his, interlacing their fingers together. “It's okay, Newt. I'm here. I'm not goin' anywhere.”

“I love you.”

Tina smiled, her eyes teasing. “I know.”

“I wish – I want to tell you,” he breathed.

“You just did, Dorcas.”

He looked up at her, aching. Part of him wanted it to be true, a very selfish part, but the rational part rejected this idea, a little desperately. He knew exactly where he was, and did _not_ want her here too. Newt sighed, leaning back and collapsing against the wall.

“Shhhh,” she said softly, tipping his chin up. His gaze was longing as he considered her, and then all his troubles were melting away.

Her lips were warm and confident, breathing life into him. Newt wondered if he had died, if perhaps this wasn't his reward for all his suffering.

“Don't be dumb,” she murmured, before bringing her mouth back to his.

He sank into her kiss, letting himself surrender to her touch. Their tongues met with a spark, and Newt gasped as she began to suck on his bottom lip. Tina's movements were soft and sweet as she ran her fingers through his hair, humming happily under her breath.

“Better?” she whispered, pushing back his bangs with a grin. He nodded, trembling, the shadow of a smile flickering across his face.

His bones were aching again, but she was here beside him, stroking his arms and planting kisses along his jaw. He stared into her eyes, sighing as she brushed her lips against his again.

He was terrified of what the next few days would bring. He knew he would spend most of his waking hours feeling desperate and afraid, forced to endure what he'd hoped he'd put behind him forever - days which would culminate in either shame, or death, or both. Yet, feeling Tina's warm mouth caressing his lips as her giddy laugh escaped between them, somehow Newt couldn't help thinking he would be alright, just so long as he had _this_.

* * *

Growing up around Queenie, Tina had realized from an early age just how rare her sister's blend of beauty and grace truly was. Though she had long ago become accustomed to Queenie's bubbly charms, she never did stop noticing the way she could make a room go completely quiet when she entered it.

Leta Lestrange had the same quality. Her dark curls flowed loosely down her back, drawing attention to her full lips and sly smile. Her eyes sparkled with every touch of the light, and more than one head turned her way as she made her way toward their table.

They were sitting in a quaint French cafe, the conversation of the other patrons fading away as night began to fall around them. They'd gotten a table by the window, and the stars danced across their faces as they waited in silence for their guest of honor to reach them.

Leta slowed as she approached, her small eager smile slipping as she caught sight of the man sitting at Dumbledore's left. “Theseus.”

He looked up briefly, his tone short. “Hello.”

“...Hello,” she said cautiously, hovering gracefully behind the empty chair that had been left for her. Her gaze was curious as it wandered over the three unfamiliar faces.

“Miss Lestrange.” Dumbledore stood, holding out the chair for her. “How very rude of me not to warn you we would have company. You already know Theseus, of course,” he smiled pleasantly.

This was rather an understatement; Leta threw him an apprehensive glance, wincing when she saw his expression. Theseus was hunched over in his seat, clutching a large brandy and looking as if he smelled something foul.

“Allow me to introduce you to some of Newt's friends from America,” Dumbledore continued smoothly, apparently opting to feign ignorance to this less-than-cordial greeting. “This is Miss Goldstein, one of MACUSA's most celebrated Aurors-” Tina blushed, glancing appreciatively at him. “And her sister Queenie, and Queenie's fiance, Mr. Kowalski.”

“Pleasure,” Leta said politely, nodding to each of them in turn. She paused, looking uncertain. “You're - _all_ friends of Newt's?”

“Actually, Newt is the reason we asked you here,” Tina said quickly, well aware that her sister could probably hear her heart, floundering about in her throat. Leta turned back to study her.

“Yes, Dumbledore said as much,” she said calmly, her gaze curious. Her eyes darted back to her intermittently as she turned to address Dumbledore. “What's going on?”

Tina took a deep breath, bracing herself. “Maybe you should sit down.”

* * *

Newt was trembling, his eyes red against the onslaught of tears. He was tired, and he was scared, and truly, he just wanted it to end already.

_They were standing in one of the abandoned dungeons, the only light coming from a handful of torches spread throughout the room. It was one of their favorite meeting places, the site of countless hours of talk and laughter, hidden away in the depths of the castle. Their little secret. It had made him feel so special, having her to himself, someone who understood completely what it was like to be an outsider, someone with the power to make it all fade away, instead lighting up his life with her wild enthusiasm._

_No trace of that prior happiness could be seen on Newt's face as he paced the room, his hands balled into fists by his sides. His curls stuck up at odd angles from where he'd ran his fingers through them in panic, and he turned now, staring at the younger girl with frank disbelief. “How - COULD - you?!” he demanded, his voice breaking. “How-” he stopped, scarcely managing to breathe. “HOW?”_

_“Calm_ _DOWN_ , _Newt, they'll_ _hear_ _you!” Leta_ _touched his arm, her eyes wide. He flinched, pulling away._

 _“You_ _EXPLOITED_ _an innocent creature!” Newt shouted._ _Leta glanced toward the door, bouncing anxiously on her heels._

 _“Calm down,_ _PLEASE!_ _Please, Newt, just stop screaming-”_

 _He was gasping, gaping at her, his cheeks flooded with color. “It must have been –_ _TERRIFIED,_ _and you_ _USED_ _it for your own stupid, selfish -” Newt's voice shook; he was looking at her as if he'd never really seen her properly before. “You_ _HURT_ _someone!”_

“ _Malfoy will be FINE!” Leta retorted. “I'm sure Aurelius was exaggerating, as usual – it was only a couple of Jarvey bites, Malfoy's just milking it for atten-”_

 _“SPEAKING_ _of the Jarvey,” Newt interjected, struggling to steady his breath. He glared up at her, pain radiating from his eyes. It took him a moment before he was capable of speech. “Did you - THINK - for one second, about how that poor creature would suffer when you-”_

_“The potion wears off, the Jarvey won't have any permanent repercu-”_

_“That's not what I'm-” Newt paused, his chest shaking. He couldn't bear to look at her. “...They killed the Jarvey, Leta.”_

_Leta froze. She faltered, staring at him. “You can't know that,” she said haughtily, though there was an uneasiness in her eyes now. Newt simply gazed at her, his heart breaking._

_“What did you think they would do to it? You abandoned it there.”_

_“I didn't-!” She paused, looking as if she might cry. “I didn't think they would_ _**kill** _ _it,” she whispered, blinking rapidly._

_Newt frowned, staring at the floor. “...His father came up to the castle the moment they got the owl,” he said finally, wiping his eyes. “I heard Boyd telling a group of Ravenclaws.”_

_“I didn't know, Newt.” Leta's lip trembled as she spoke, though she recovered quickly. “It's not my fault,” she said stoutly, after a moment's hesitation. “Malfoy's father is – overdramatic, and cruel, and sadistic. I couldn't have known he would overreact so badly. If_ _**anyone's** _ _to blame, it's him.”_

_Newt said nothing, merely staring at her. Leta's face fell._

_“I just thought it might be funny,” she argued, her voice pleading. “Malfoy being the one having to deal with someone's rude mouth for once.”_

_“Yes,” Newt said quietly, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “And so he did. I just –” He shook his head, meeting her gaze. “Was it_ _**really**_ _**WORTH**_ _it?”_

_Leta smirked, her lip curling defiantly. “Well, I think Malfoy will have learned to keep his mouth SHUT in future.” She rolled her shoulders, her eyes blazing. “I think you'll agree I did the world a favor on THAT count!”_

_“Don't you care?” Newt muttered, staring at her. He turned away, hoisting himself onto one of the desks and burying his head in his hands. “What on earth did you give to it?” he added shakily. “Boyd said there was a pool of blood deep enough to house a grindylow-”_

_She didn't answer. She was facing the door now, her arms folded against her chest. “Bran Boyd's a liar, you know,” she said after a moment. “I've heard-”_

_“He wasn't lying,” Newt said shortly, his voice slightly muffled._

_Leta tensed. “Well, so what?” she demanded, spinning around to face him again. “Malfoy deserved to be taught a lesson,” she snapped. “He thinks he's so much better than all of us, strutting around like he owns the place, picking on first years and jinxing anyone who doesn't drool at the mouth every time he expresses one of his father's dim-witted opinions-”_

_Newt looked up, his jaw dropping. “How c...How can you be so – don't you_ _**realize?”** _

_“Realize what?” she asked stubbornly, raising an eyebrow._

_“Malfoy's father wants retribution! He's furious-”_

_“What's that to do with me?” she asked coolly._

_Newt gaped at her, running his hands frantically through his hair. “Aren't you WORRIED?_ _**Already** _ _they suspect you, you're hardly quiet about your feelings toward him-”_

_“Let them suspect. I'm not afraid of him,” she scoffed._

_“You're - on - probation!” Newt moaned, looking agonized. “Who knows what Dippet will-”_

_Leta's eyes were glittering now; she disregarded his concerns with a_ _reckless smirk._ _“They can't prove it was mine,” she said dismissively._

 _Newt hopped off the desk, his voice rising again against his will. “You_ _KNOW_ _they're bound to pin it on one of us!” He_ _ **hated**_ _this, he hated shouting, hating being upset with her at all, but he didn't know to reconcile the girl he'd cared for with what this selfish, remorseless girl had just done. “...Malfoy's father will make sure_ _**SOMEONE**_ _takes the fall, I promise you,” he said soberly._

_Leta shrugged, shaking her head. “They can't prove which one of us actually did it. They won't suspend us both.”_

_“Won't they?” Newt asked desperately. “Malfoy's father's on the Board of Governors!”_

_“You worry too much,” she whispered. A flicker of her old smile was back. Newt groaned, feeling sick._ _Perhaps if she didn't give him so much to worry about, he thought ruefully-_

_They were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat; Newt turned, seeing Leta's Head of House standing in the archway. He closed his eyes, his mouth filling with bile._

* * *

Leta's face was drawn as she studied the table, her lower lip quivering. Tina tried not to look at her, feeling her stomach contort into knots.

“...I don't understand,” she said finally, glancing up. “Why did you ask me here?” she whispered.

“Because you were the last person to see Newt before he disappeared,” Theseus said calmly, watching her with distaste.

Leta shook her head, her doleful eyes glancing from one face to the next. “I didn't see anything suspicious,” she said quickly. “We only spoke for a minute, he wouldn't-” Leta balked, averting her gaze. Tina felt a spark of hope flare up inside her, then felt instantly ashamed.

“So you won't help us,” Theseus spoke up, raising his eyebrows.

Leta bit her lip, sighing in resignation. “I swear to you, he didn't tell me anything.”

“That doesn't mean you don't know anything,” Tina said softly, watching her intently.

There was a long silence at these words, and she felt the mood shift around the table. Leta blinked, looking genuinely confused. “I beg your pardon?” she asked, turning her gaze on her.

Tina paused, exchanging a quick glance with her sister. Queenie nodded almost imperceptibly, her brow furrowing in concentration.

Tina lowered her voice. “Miss Lestrange....” she said delicately, her gaze apologetic as she faced the older woman down. “Even in America, your family has earned itself a... _distinctive_ reputation.” Leta tensed, looking at her warily. “If Newt truly has been taken by Grindelwald, then-”

Leta was silent for a moment, her shoulders dropping. “-What exactly are you accusing me of, Miss Goldstein?” she asked quietly, frowning at the table.

“I'm not accusing you of anything,” Tina said gently. “I'm just saying –” she hesitated. “I'm just saying, you know someone who knows something,” she said heavily.

Leta paused, gradually rising her eyes again. She looked suddenly uncertain. Tina met her gaze unflinchingly, her expression almost sympathetic. Leta blinked. “...My family and I are not close,” she said carefully. “I'm not privy to their more – illicit activities.”

“You're a resourceful woman,” Theseus said flatly, scowling over his glass. “You could help us if you tried.”

“I - _can't,”_ she whispered, her eyes widening.

Theseus rolled his eyes. “Newt would do it for you,” he said shortly, gulping down half his drink. “Even now, if you were in danger-”

Leta frowned. “Newt's a better person than I am,” she said simply, as he took another swallow. Theseus snorted into his drink.

Tina sighed, pressing forward. “If you really think that, prove yourself wrong,” she urged. “Show everyone that you're _more_ than your family's history-”

“Don't bother, Tina,” Theseus scoffed, turning bitterly away. “I told you this was a mistake.”

Leta glanced up, her eyebrows suddenly drawing. _“'Tina?”'_ she repeated, her voice breaking. She turned to stare at her, considering her anew. Tina blinked back at her, slightly confused at this shift in tone. Leta's eyes widened. “...You're the woman Newt's courting,” she murmured.

Tina jolted, startled. “I-”

“Yeah, she is,” Queenie said softly. Leta turned her gaze on her, her expression weary as she took in the blonde bombshell before her.

Tina closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her composure. Theseus was snickering into his glass. “Listen up, all of you,” she said firmly, facing them all. Theseus raised his eyebrows, setting down his drink. “Everyone at this table cares about Newt,” she said quietly. “He needs us. Every second we spend bickering or making excuses is a second more he could be being tortured, or-” she paused, her face draining of color.

“If Newt is in Nurmengard, he's as good as dead,” Leta said hoarsely, clenching her hands into fists under the table. “I don't like saying it, but we need to be realistic-.”

“Newt isn't dead yet.” Tina's voice was eerily calm, and she braced herself as she continued. She cleared her throat, all insecurities gone as she faced the witch in front of her. “He's not dead,” she repeated, her voice softening. “...But he will be,” she agreed, forcing herself to meet Leta's eyes.

“Grindelwald's going to kill him if he doesn't give him what he wants,” Tina said clearly. “But he's going to drag it out as long as possible, until Newt either breaks, or he loses his mind and can't tell him anything useful. Either way, Newt will suffer.” Her eyes bore into the older woman's. “He's suffering now, and he's going to suffer tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, unless we do something to stop it. You could be the difference between whether he sees next week, or dies alone in a cell hundreds of miles from home.”

Leta was breathing sharply, tears streaming down her face. She ignored both Theseus's dubious expression and Dumbledore's intense gaze, wiping angrily at her eyes. “You don't understand,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You have no idea, any of you...”

“What don't we understand?!” Theseus demanded, his voice rising. “Please, _enlighten_ us-”

“That's enough.” Tina's jaw was set. Her gaze met Leta's.

“One of two things is about to happen, and probably very soon,” Tina said quietly, staring her down. “Newt is either going to die, or he is not. _You_ might be able to tip the scales.” Her eyes had darkened, matching themselves to the blackening night sky. “...So, will you help us save him, or not, Miss Lestrange?”

Leta hesitated, her breath catching for a moment, then steeled her shoulders. She nodded slightly, barely doing more than jerking her head.

“I'll try,” she whispered.

* * *

Sweat poured down Newt's face, his body trembling beneath dirty robes.

_He was seven, and his mother was grinning at him, pointing across the Reservation toward the magnificent black creature sipping from the stream....he was 18, and Theseus was bearing down on him, shouting and looking terrified....He was sitting at his desk, a black cloud hovering beside him as he pored over equations..._

_He was back in New York, and a dark-haired witch was pushing him against the wall of a building, her voice shrill and anxious as he gazed back at her in delighted fascination._

“No,” he gasped. He was shaking again, but this time it was with anger. The image disappeared, Tina's face fading as he opened his eyes.

“You're growing weak,” Grindelwald muttered, paying him no attention. “Your mind is unraveling, it is becoming harder to pinpoint specific memories, to separate fact from fiction...”

Newt's head pounded, and he winced as Grindelwald brought his wand back to his temple. It had grown dark in the cell; there were no windows to speak of, only cold stone and a door that faced him at all times, taunting him.

_Tina was smiling at him on the docks, her expression radiant as she brought her lips to his._

“Leave her out of this,” Newt growled, forcing himself to break eye contact.

Grindelwald gave a bark of laughter. “Do you think I take _pleasure_ in witnessing your ridiculous fantasies?” he chided. “Do you think I _enjoy_ watching your daytrips with Mummy, do you think I give a DAMN about some winged foal you nursed at school? _You brought this on yourself,_ ” he hissed. “This could have been...so much simpler, Mr. Scamander...”

“Sod off,” Newt spat, his gaze returning to the floor.

“Believe me, the sooner we finish wading through the rubbish, the sooner we can all find relief,” Grindelwald snapped back, raising his wand. Newt cringed, staring at it in trepidation.

“And now, Mr. Scamander... _Legilimens!”_

 _The room had went very quiet._ _Newt had never felt so powerless, or so torn._ _Leta_ _was trembling_ _, her cheeks quickly becoming overrun with tears._

 _“Please, I didn't_ _**do** _ _anything,” she moaned. “Professor, you know I didn't-”_

_Slughorn gazed at her sadly, his expression grave. “I'm sorry Miss Lestrange, I truly am,” he said heavily. He turned to Newt, sighing. “...Mr. Scamander – the Headmaster wants to see you in his office.”_

_“What?” Leta murmured, frowning slightly. Slughorn turned back to her, his face drawn._

_“Miss Lestrange - I'm sorry,” he_ _said quietly._ _He paused, appearing to hate what he was about to say. “You need to pack your trunk.”_

 _“Wh-NO!”_ _Leta looked terrified. She stepped back, shaking her head frantically. “NO!” she gasped. “I didn't-”_

_“The Headmaster had no choice, Miss Lestrange,” Slughorn said gently. “Mr. Malfoy's condition is critical-”_

_“He's fine!” she howled. “He's faking it, trying to get me in trouble...PLEASE,” she said urgently. “You could talk to him!” She was hysterical, her voice rising shrilly to a shriek as she cried. “PLEASE, please, Professor...you know me, you know I didn't, you know I could never-”_

_“I argued with him for an hour,” Slughorn said wearily, his face pale. “I'm sorry, Miss Lestrange. He is quite firm.”_

_“But I_ _ **didn't**_ _– you_ _CAN'T_ _– My father - ”_

_Her eyes were desperate, pleading. Newt swallowed; she looked just like a frightened animal. His shoulders shook as he turned toward Slughorn. Her screams were echoing in his head, a sound he wasn't sure he'd ever be rid of. Leta was sobbing incoherently, her head in her hands._

_“It was mine, Professor,” he said loudly, and for once he didn't stammer a bit. “The Jarvey. It was me.”_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. So, there you have it...Newt's backstory. What did you think? 
> 
> Expect an update soon, this series is very very close to being finished. I've already got the next four chapters written, and the final two chapters are nearly done, they just need expanding and polishing up. (PS. Would anyone be interested in a sequel to this story, showing Newt courting Tina for real? Because I'm going to write it either way, lmao, I'm just angling for comments.) 
> 
> Don't forget you can follow my updates on [tumblr](http://amandasarmada.tumblr.com), if that's your thing.


	7. Chapter 7

The moon was still high in the sky as a hooded figure materialized in midair, her robes billowing behind her as she gathered her bearings. The woman was beautiful; moonlight danced across her dark skin, illuminating her carefully-carved features.

Leta shivered, pulling her cloak a little tighter around her person. She was standing in a narrow country lane, the only sound an owl hooting in the distance. There was a gentle, not-entirely-natural breeze emanating through the grounds, causing the rosebushes to sway ominously. An impressive manor house loomed out over the landscape, casting shadows across the grass. Dawn was approaching.

She hesitated outside the gate, looking up at the estate for a moment before waving her hand over the lock. It swung open without a sound, and she stepped forward, her small frame nearly eclipsed by the grandeur of the house.

The front door opened of its own accord. Leta held her breath as she stepped into the familiar hall, staring around at the magnificent architecture. It was exactly as she remembered; the high ceilings, the marble floor, the glass sculptures in the foyer. The door closed behind her with a quiet _click_.

“Well, well, well. The absentee daughter returns.”

Leta spun around, her hand flying to her heart. A narrow-shouldered young man was watching her from a few feet away, leaning against the bannister. He was still in his housecoat. “Lacerto,” she greeted him, inclining her head. She laughed, catching her breath. “You scared me,” she added playfully, smiling coyly.

He said nothing, his dark eyes glowing eerily in the dim light. Leta waited a moment to see if he would respond; when he did not, she pressed forward, gracing him with her most charming smile. “Is Father home?”

Lacerto was silent, still watching her intently. He was seven years her junior, and the only son, born last of the five Lestrange children and always overly eager to prove himself. He had yet to marry, the only one of her siblings who had not done so - although in Lacerto's case this had thus far been forgiven, as he was still quite young, and there were so few respectable pureblood witches to choose from. Leta stepped forward, raising her eyebrow inquisitively.

“Father is abroad,” he said delicately, after a moment's pause.

Leta nodded, appraising him. He'd grown since she last saw him; he must be nearly a foot taller than her now. His face was the same, except for the ridiculous patch of fuzz he was allowing to flourish across his chin. Leta had to suppress a snicker; it looked like he had a caterpillar sitting on his face...It was very difficult to feel fear, looking at that stupid little line of hair.

“Alright,” Leta said softly, and Lacerto barely had time to react; her wand was already pointed at his chest before he'd even begun to reach for his.

_“Imperio.”_

* * *

Tina yawned, brushing her hair out of her face. The morning sun was trickling through the open window, bathing the room in soft yellow light. She was finding it difficult to appreciate its beauty; she was finding it difficult to even keep her eyes open.

Tina took a tentative sip of the tea Theseus had prepared, trying not to make a face. It wasn't the taste she found particularly objectionable, she just felt she needed something with a bit more of a _kick_ to get her moving in the morning. She thought longingly of the jar of coffee beans back in their apartment back home, and saw Queenie throw her a smirk. Tina averted her eyes, sipping the tea obediently.

They were seated around a very chic-looking dining room table, picking their way through the eggs and toast Queenie had put together for their breakfast. It looked delicious, though it was wasted on her; everything had tasted like sawdust for the past three days. Theseus appeared to be similarly burdened, choosing to play with his food rather than actually eat it. His brow was serious as he labored over his notes, one hand turning a page and another mindlessly twirling his fork.

“ _Gorgeous_ day, isn't it?” Queenie said brightly, glancing out the window.

“Extr'ordinary,” Jacob mumbled, shooting her a weak smile. He stifled a yawn, gazing down at his tea with a dubious expression, as if sure it couldn't possibly contain caffeine. Of the five of them, only Dumbledore looked truly awake; his blue eyes were sharp as they surveyed a long piece of parchment, peering down over a pair of half-moon reading glasses.

They were in Theseus's townhouse, at his insistence; apparently Newt's apartment lacked appropriate “security” for the discussion of such sensitive information. Tina had to admit it was more comfortable here, with its spacious rooms and modern furniture, though privately she preferred Newt's less sophisticated tastes.

Five pale, sleep-deprived faces looked up at the sound of the doorknocker, though Theseus was the first to stand. “Please, let me get that,” he said graciously, tossing down his napkin on the table. Queenie stood too, Summoning a clean cup from the cupboard as she set about preparing a fresh brew for their guest.

Theseus was scowling when he returned, and Tina watched as he yanked out his chair without uttering a word. In the entranceway stood an equally unhappy-looking young woman, clutching an enormous black leather binder in her small hands. “Sorry to _intrude_ ,” she said coolly, shooting Theseus a pointed look. He ignored her.

“What did you find out?” Tina asked quickly, sitting up straighter in her chair.

Leta turned to her, her chin rising slightly. “A fair bit,” she said carefully, fingering the binder in her arms. She was still hovering in the doorway, and as she stepped into the light Tina noticed for the first time the bags that had formed under her eyes. She looked exhausted; the lustrous, carefully-pinned back curls of the night before now hung in a messy braid across her shoulder, and even her skin seemed somewhat less luminous. Tina wondered if she'd slept.

“Well?” Theseus asked, closing his own notebook with a snap.

Leta frowned, pulling out a chair, then looked surprised and slightly gratified as Queenie placed a cup of fresh tea in front of her. _“Well,”_ she said haughtily, her voice slightly hoarse. She pursed her lips, staring at the table. “To start with...I can confirm that Newt is being kept at Nurmengard,” she said quietly, giving a tiny shudder. “My contact was uncertain of his exact quarters, but it seems safe to say his cell is in the westward tower, located somewhere on Level 7.”

Tina stiffened, feeling as if the wind had just been knocked out of her. She'd _known_ Theseus's suspicions had been correct, known as soon as the Obscurial was discovered missing, but part of her had held onto the slightest bit of hope that they'd all been mistaken, that Newt was just caught up in some adventure, too busy to respond to his mail and somewhere too dangerous to risk keeping his suitcase around. She felt her eyes burn, and suddenly Queenie's hand was on her shoulder.

Theseus, too, had gone pale at Leta's pronouncement, but he recovered quickly. “Anything else?” he pressed, raising his eyebrows.

Leta paused, setting down her cup. “As we expected, it is impossible to Apparate anywhere within a ten mile radius of the gates,” she began, swirling her drink with a spoon.

“That won't be a problem,” Tina murmured dismissively, ignoring Theseus's curious gaze. There'd be time to explain the details of her plan later.

“The biggest problem won't be getting inside, it'll be getting _out_ ,” Leta agreed, tapping her fingers on the table. “That said, getting to Newt won't be easy either. In addition to the numerous spells protecting the prison, Grindelwald's got a sizable security team - all heavily schooled in the Dark Arts and some of them with reputations of their own.” She nodded to the binder, opening it tentatively and removing a piece of parchment. “As you can see, some of them are quite nasty-”

“We can handle it,” Tina murmured, with a fleeting glance to Theseus. Queenie had settled back down at the table, surveying the notes with interest and mild concern. Tina was quiet for a few minutes, leaning over her sister's shoulder to better read Leta's sprawling writing.

Leta hesitated, appearing to be steeling her nerves. “And – here.” She closed her eyes, pushing the binder away from herself.

“What's this?” Tina asked curiously, pulling it toward her.

Leta's face was pale. “Floor plans,” she whispered.

Tina gaped at her, her eyes widening as she started flipping through the heavily-detailed notes. “How did you-?”

“You don't want to know.”

It was Queenie who answered. She looked slightly sick, and was suddenly eyeing Leta with distaste, and something else that might have been – fear. Leta met her gaze steadily, her jaw set. Tina frowned at them, but didn't comment.

“Alright,” she said shakily, pushing her hair back. “Um – this is really good work. Really, really good – this is going to help us,” she said heavily, blinking as she gazed over the drawings.

Leta nodded, her expression still tense. “I've sketched out every corridor I could find out about, and labeled the areas with highest security, trying to estimate the schedule of shifts in the margins,” she explained, leaning forward to illustrate. “Certain times have much lighter manpower than others...This is in German time, by the way.”

Tina nodded, murmuring her approval as she pored over the meticulous illustrations.

“There are far too many cells for them _all_ to be full,” Leta continued. “I suspect it's a diversion, an attempt to slow you up if you attempt to do – exactly what you're planning to do,” she said abruptly, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. “Still, these should prove useful once inside. It's almost like a giant maze, the way the corridors intersect - do you see?”

“Right,” Tina muttered, chewing on her nail. She felt Theseus brush against her, and knew he was straining to see the notes without making it look like he was trying to see them. Dumbledore, meanwhile, had pushed his spectacles up his crooked nose, leaning forward to study the maps with a determined glint in his eye.

“The bad news is that Nurmengard has wards which will ensure Grindelwald knows immediately if an intruder arrives on the premises, which means not only is a covert attack out of the question, but you'll have to deal with any number of protective enchantments trying to bar you from proceeding through the prison. My contact couldn't be sure which particular protections applied to which corresponding levels, but I was able to at least compile a list of those I thought most probable.” Leta slipped out a piece of parchment from the stack, showing it to them. “This is on top of the danger of Grindelwald himself, of course,” Leta added. Tina nodded distractedly, her eyes traveling down the list Leta had just set down on the table. “However -” Leta paused, clearing her throat. “Tomorrow night Grindelwald will be in England for an assessment of his Western recruits, too far to Apparate all the way back, even for him-”

“Where in England?” Theseus interrupted, glancing up.

Leta shot him a dangerous Look, and Theseus scowled. There was a very chilly silence for a moment, before Leta continued. “Security will be heightened in Grindelwald's absence. I can't estimate precisely how many Reinigers might be left in place, but-”

“Sorry, 'Reinigers'?” Jacob interrupted, looking confused. Leta gave him a very odd look.

“It's what Grindelwald's followers call themselves,” Theseus muttered, bending over the blueprints. Leta scoffed incredulously. Theseus raised his eyes to her, surveying her impassively. “Something funny?”

“I'm sorry,” she explained, not sounding particularly sorry at all. “I knew Americans were largely out of touch with the situation in Europe, but I had no idea-”

“Mr. Kowalski is a No-Maj,” Theseus said coldly, his tone clipped. “Or Muggle, I should say.”

“He's what?” Leta inquired, her gaze sweeping over him. She stared, her mouth draping unflatteringly open. “And you're bringing him _with-_?”

“Hey,” Jacob cut in, sounding defensive. “I ain't helpless, ma'am. I fought in a war, ya know-”

“I meant no offense,” she said impatiently, and Tina saw a flicker of her old haughty demeanor resurface beneath her tired features. “I just mean to say-” she turned back to Theseus, pursing her lips. “-I thought you were supposed to be all _righteous_ about standing up for Muggle protections?” she asked sardonically, raising her eyebrows.

“Mr. Kowalksi is an important part of our team, and perfectly competent in Muggle dueling, I assure you,” Theseus retorted, his expression withering. Leta fell silent, looking supremely skeptical, but held her tongue.

“You were saying? About Reinigers?” Theseus pressed.

“Yes.” Leta paused, slowly regaining her composure as she tried to remember where she had left off. “...I can't say exactly how many guards will be stationed in the facility, but they'll be fairly spread out, and they can't Apparate in the building any more than you can, so in theory, it might be possible to take them out in shifts. The real threat, of course, is Grindelwald.” Leta's eyes narrowed. “He may not be able to Apparate the entire way, but he's still got a far greater Apparition range than most wizards. Once he's been tipped off, which will be nearly instantaneous upon arrival, I would approximate you'll have about a 30-minute window-”

“Aren't you coming?” Tina interrupted, looking suddenly startled.

There was a very long pause. “...What?” Leta asked hesitantly.

Tina blinked. “...Sorry,” she said hastily, sitting up straighter. “I just assumed-”

“Which just goes to prove, even the best of us can make egregious errors of judgment,” Theseus quipped, his gaze chilly as he surveyed the woman sinking subtly in her chair.

Leta pressed her lips together. “...I can't,” she murmured finally, her voice cracking slightly. She swallowed, clearing her throat. “I know what you must think of me, but you must admit, this is _madness_. Barging into Grindelwald's prison, four wizards and a _Muggle_ against an army-”

“So why bother helping us at all, if you think it's so pointless?” Theseus asked flatly. “Guilty conscience?”

Leta bit hard on her lower lip. “This – This gives you a _chance_ ,” she whispered, tapping the parchments still resting on the table. She looked up at Tina, her expression guarded. “But that's all it is. A _chance.”_

Tina gazed back at her calmly, her voice soft. “I know.”

Leta shivered, shaking her head fervently. “I can't,” she repeated sharply. “...It's not just me,” she added quickly, her eyes flashing. “If they were to find out I'd betrayed them, that my contact was _vulnerable_ to being betrayed...my entire family would be in danger – they'd come after my sisters, my nieces and nephews-” Leta looked up, her expression defiant. “They're children. What right do I have to risk their lives?”

Tina was silent for a moment, then nodded, turning away. Leta hesitated. “I've already lost Newt,” she said quietly. “I might not be on the best of terms with my family, but that doesn't mean I want them dead too. Can't you understand that?”

Queenie grabbed Tina's hand under the table, shaking her head almost imperceptibly. Tina nodded, closing her eyes. There was a long pause.

“Well,” Theseus said finally, scratching his chin. “You've done astonishingly well today – assuming this isn't all an elaborate ruse designed to murder us all,” he drawled. Leta's gaze flickered to him. His lip curled. “Although then again, I suppose it was never your rather unique skill set that was being called into question in the first place.”

Leta stood. “If that's all I can do, I think it's time I take my leave,” she said tersely, staring resolutely at the table. “Everything I mentioned is included in the file. If ever anyone had an opportunity to pull this off, this is it. I wish you the very best of luck, truly.” Her gaze dropped to Tina, before looking hastily away. “I'll let myself out,” she added quietly, pushing in her chair. “Thank you for the tea, Miss Goldstein.” Queenie was silent, looking uncomfortably at her lap. “Professor. It was a pleasure, as always.”

“Quite, Miss Lestrange.” Dumbledore dipped his head.

Leta paused, appearing to be arguing with herself about something. “...Tina,” she said finally, her voice shaking slightly as she reached out to touch her arm. Tina tensed, looking up to meet her eyes.

Leta's expression was somber, her dark eyes filled with a storm of emotions Tina couldn't quite untangle.

“...Find him,” she said softly, her voice pleading.

Tina hesitated, nodding awkwardly.

“We will,” Theseus said harshly, and Leta threw him a scathing look. “I almost forgot,” she muttered, hovering in the doorway. “...They have some sort of creature locked up there, but I couldn't find out what it was.” She sighed slightly, her forehead creasing. “But it is – _definitely ..._ dangerous.”

“Understood.” Tina exchanged a significant look with Theseus. She glanced back at her, her gaze steady. “Thank you,” she added quietly. Leta nodded, and after a moment's pause she turned away again, disappearing down the hall. Several seconds later they heard the door open and close, and Tina leaned forward in her chair, surveying the table with more interest than might be considered natural.

There was a brief moment of silence. Theseus cleared his throat.

“So -” he said steadily, eyeing his companions. “Tomorrow night.” He rubbed his hands together, looking slightly dazed. “Are we doing this?”

“Oh yes, I think so,” Dumbledore said comfortably. “If we truly can guarantee Gellert will be out of the country, and all we have to do is evade a number of his followers and subvert whatever challenges he's set in store for us, I believe we'll have a fighting chance.” Tina glanced at him, unsure if he was joking or not. “And as I see it, the longer we wait, the more information we risk Grindelwald obtaining from Newt's poor bedraggled state-”

“Why should we trust her?” Theseus asked stonily, rapping on the binder with his knuckles. “This _could_ be a trap, it could be an ambush-”

“If it is, we're hardly worse off than we were already,” Tina pointed out, rubbing her temples. “Besides, it'd be too obvious. If she was a spy, she'd have asked more questions about our plans, attempted to come with us so she could sabotage us when our guard is down-" Theseus grimaced, but said nothing.

“That reminds me, there's something we need to discuss,” Tina spoke up, glancing around the table. Four faces turned toward her. “...I think, we have a responsibility,” she said slowly, looking at them seriously, “If we encounter any occupied cells before we find Newt's, to offer the other prisoners rescue. These are innocent people, enemies of Grindelwald, being held against their will and enduring...Morrigan knows what kind of suffering.”

Dumbledore sat back, looking pensive. “You realize, of course, none of these people will have wands, and they will become infinitely more vulnerable outside of their cells.”

“Forgive me,” Tina said quietly, the corner of her lips twitching. “But I believe at this table are two of the most highly accomplished wizards in the country. I think we can put something together to try to get at least some of those people out safely. And I think we have a responsibility to try.”

“...Agreed,” Dumbledore said somberly, with a slight nod.

“How will we protect them all while we're fighting?” Theseus asked, his expression conflicting.

Tina paused, biting her lip. “I have an idea,” she admitted. “I'll get to that in the second. First I think we should talk about how we're going to get in.”

“Yes, do tell,” Theseus said conversationally, and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Why can't we just make one of them porky things like we used to get here?” Jacob interjected, gesturing to the women on either side of them.

“Ah.” Dumbledore said. “We could pursue it, but arranging international portkeys are a notoriously difficult affair, and without an intimate contact inside the German Ministry-”

“Right,” he nodded, understanding.

“It shouldn't be too much trouble to get our hands on some additional brooms, if that's what Tina was thinking,” Theseus commented, with a glance at her. “I realize you wouldn't have ridden one before, Mr. Kowalski, but you can accompany Miss Queenie, she can assist you. We can fly within Apparating distance, Apparate to just outside the bounds, and fly the last ten miles or so. It makes more sense to fly the first leg of the journey, I think, if we're traveling at night-”

“Actually,” Tina said thoughtfully, lifting Newt's suitcase from under the table. Theseus blinked at it, watching as Tina smiled, lifting the lid. “I had another idea.”

The case flipped open, and out burst a magnificent orange bird, its fiery tail escaping last as it lifted itself into the air.

“ _This_ is Fawkes,” Tina said quietly, gazing up at him admiringly. “He is immensely loyal, intelligent, and he can Apparate long distances while carrying human passengers.”

* * *

The next 36 hours passed in a blur, Tina's time divided between tending to the creatures and memorizing the carefully-drafted notes and blueprints they'd been gifted with. By seven o'clock the next evening, she felt about as over-prepared as she did when she sat her O.W.L. Exams, and equally nervous.

The sound of footsteps made her turn, and she smiled feebly as she watched Theseus's approach. He was dressed in his normal Auror attire, though she noticed he'd added a strap to his belt, upon which he'd attached a shiny tin thermos, settled snugly in a little accompanying pouch. Tina recognized its significance immediately - it had occurred to her, late the night before, that there was a reasonable chance they might discover the remnants of Newt's missing Obscurus during the course of their explorations, and Theseus had immediately agreed to add its recapture to their list of objectives. Deciding they would do well to plan for every possible contingency, it was determined that they would each carry one item of their choice, bewitched to be able to fit a large magical object, just in case they were to get separated and have need of it. They would also double as portable shelters for wandless refugees, in the event Fawkes proved to be occupied somewhere else in the prison at the time they were discovered, and thus temporarily unable to transport them to safety.

“Are you ready?” he asked briskly, straightening his tie. She'd noticed it seemed to be a nervous habit of his.

Tina nodded, offering him a bracing smile. “Ready,” she affirmed. “Did you get-?”

“I did,” he said quickly, and he unscrewed the thermos to show her. Tina watched, wide-eyed, as Theseus started to pull on the end of a long metal tube, yanking and tugging for what seemed like ages.

“Is it time?”

They both turned, seeing Jacob shuffle into the room, an inquisitive look on his face. “We're just waiting for Dumbledore to arrive,” Tina replied.

Jacob nodded, beginning to pace back and forth in front of Theseus's mantle. Queenie hovered in the entranceway behind him, an oversized purse strung over her shoulder. “...Whatcha all up to?” he added curiously, then stopped, his gaze landing on the object in Theseus's grip.

“Oh, wow...does _that_ take me back,” he said hoarsely, taking a step closer. “Is that a-?”

“M1918, Browning Automatic Rifle,” Theseus replied promptly. “State of the art, used by the Allied forces during the war and highly recommended for portable ground assaults. I believe the term is 'walking fire'?”

Jacob nodded, staring at it in wonder. “They brought these out just before Armistice Day,” he muttered nostalgically, and he realized with a jolt that those events hadn't been far from here. He hadn't even thought about that.

“You know how to use it, yes?” Theseus confirmed.

“Ain't much to it,” Jacob chuckled. “The hardest part's generally just pullin' the trigger, and it ain't a technical issue that's likely to mess ya up.”

Theseus nodded, hesitating. “It's yours, if you want it,” he offered, and Jacob blinked, glancing up.

“For me?” he repeated.

“As loathe as I was to be in agreement with Leta Lestrange about anything,” Theseus said wryly. “We didn't think it was right, bringing you in unarmed.”

“Yes. And we didn't want you to feel like -” Tina paused, uncertain exactly how to phrase it. Didn't want him to feel like a sidekick, a burden, or only along for moral support?

It seemed she didn't need to bother with words though; Jacob's eyes had filled with tears, and a moment later he hurried forward, clapping an arm around the both of them. “Thank you,” he said quietly, and she thought she heard a sniffle as he drew back.

“I made some adjustments to it,” Queenie murmured, joining them in the living room. Jacob looked up at her, his fingers tracing the barrel as he turned it over in his hands. “It's got the same amount of shots and works just the same, but the ammo's a little...different.” She giggled tearfully. “...I know you don't want to kill nobody, honey,” she whispered, giving him a sweet smile. Jacob met her eyes, looking like he might have kissed her.

“Alright, then,” Theseus said primly, clearing his throat. “Shall we go over the plan one more time?”

Ten minutes later the five of them were assembled in a standing circle, Dumbledore having arrived only minutes before.

“Everybody ready?” Tina asked, her hands poised on the clasps to Newt's suitcase; she was reminded irresistibly of Newt two years before, releasing Frank in the subway tunnel. She glanced around, seeing four solemn faces gazing back at her. “Here we go.”

Fawkes rose gracefully from the case, nudging her cheek as he settled neatly in the center of the circle.“It's okay, boy,” Tina whispered, stroking him soothingly. “We're going to bring him home.”

“It's time,” Theseus murmured. Tina nodded, looking up and briefly meeting her sister's eyes. She sighed, shooting her a reassuring smile. She could hear the tension in Queenie's answering giggle, but the blonde's chin was held high, her expression determined. Tina felt a rush of warmth flood through her.

Fawkes was fluttering his wings, crooning softly as one-by-one, they grabbed hold of his tail feathers. He rose with a joyous cry, lifting them into the air. Tina redoubled her grip, closing her eyes as she felt herself disappear in a ball of flame.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: What did you think? Are you excited that the rescue is finally underway? Were you shocked at Leta's tactics, or was it underwhelming? (And how about that Fawkes cameo?) BTW, sorry if anyone's disappointed that Leta's not going along with the gang, but... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ What can I say, I'm a Newtina girl through and through, and I don't do love triangles. I also honestly think it works better this way, but if it's any consolation, Leta will be reappearing in the last chapter for some resolution with her storyarc. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, please feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts, even if it's only a word or two! <3 And be sure to check out [my tumblr](http://amandasarmada.tumblr.com) for additional updates, including a possible alternate ending for this fic when the time comes. :o


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So. I am really, really close to being done with this series. Chapters 9, 10, and 12 are done, and 11 just needs some polishing and transitions between moments. If all goes well, the whole thing should be up by the end of the week...I started sketching this story out in February or March, and I'm sooo happy I finally get to present it to you guys in full. I honestly can't believe I've (almost) finished it, I don't think I've ever written/completed a multi-part story like this before. Thank you so much for your wonderful comments and support, they keep me inspired and excited when I feel like all my creativity has been drained out of me. <3
> 
> PS. Trigger warning for child abuse, emetophobia, severe injuries, and general creepiness. It's still canon-level violence/horror, but definitely more in line with the later, darker books.

Tina looked around, feeling the ripple of her hair die down and a chill wash over her. She opened her eyes.

They were standing in a wide corridor, the floors and walls of which all seemed to be made of the same identical black stone. It seemed to stretch on endlessly, the only relief from the heavy abyss the bright plumage of the phoenix still hovering over their heads. Tina watched as Fawkes took flight, his song galvanizing her courage as she gazed around the imposing prison. Iron sconces lined the walls, holding a spattering of torches, though only half or so were actually lit. It was much colder here than it'd been in Theseus's kitchen; she could see Jacob slipping his jacket over Queenie's shoulders out of the corner of her eye.

Her attention was disrupted by the sound of pounding footsteps, and Tina turned, seeing a flash of red sparks coming toward them. She ducked instinctively, pulling Queenie down with her. “Remember the plan,” she hissed in her ear. “Offense and out, while we still have the element of surprise. Don't let them amass their troops.” Queenie nodded, looking terrified as Tina crawled forward. She shot off a Stunner on her next breath, watching as the broad-shouldered man advancing toward them crumpled. A half dozen guards were bearing down on them, more approaching from the other side, and Tina's wand moved liked lightning, striking them down like a knife through butter. Beside her, Theseus was dueling a bearded wizard who looked vaguely familiar to her from various case files, but she had no time to study him properly, seeing her opportunity to strike. She gestured to Jacob, darting forward as she sprung up on her feet.

BOOMs rang out as Jacob rained down cover fire, allowing her to get into a better position, taking out four wizards from behind as they spun to see where she'd gone. Dumbledore was beside her, wrangling two Reinigers with one jinx.

“We need to move,” Theseus muttered, crouching beside her as she took cover behind a suit of armor. Tina nodded.

A shout rang out in a language Tina didn't recognize, and she moved forward, silencing the perpetrator before he could give out any more information than he already had. He fell to the ground, his head giving a sick _thud_ as it bounced off the hard stone floor.

It was time. They'd discussed tactics before their arrival; they would be dividing into teams in order to cover more ground. The prison tower was constructed of several circular corridors, all winding around and coming together into a center labyrinthine landing; Dumbledore and Theseus would be taking the left, Queenie, Jacob, and Tina, the right.

She met Theseus's eyes, nodding without words, and with a swish of her robes she was turning, hurrying down the corridor into the darkness. Not even a shadow could be seen against the black walls; Tina had to strain her eyes, hearing Queenie and Jacob darting along behind her.

Before long Theseus and Dumbledore's footsteps had faded away, and with it, some of Tina's confidence. She didn't doubt her sister or Jacob's abilities, but there had been something inexpressibly comforting about Albus Dumbledore's presence, an awareness that you were never truly in grave danger as long as he was nearby. Tina leveled her jaw, forcing herself to keep moving.

It was freezing; she'd managed to forget for awhile in the midst all the running and the adrenaline that had accompanied their arrival, but now her awareness came back in full force, and Tina shivered beneath her thin cloak. The icy chill seemed to be coming from the walls themselves. Darkness hung over them, oppressive and foreboding.

The sound of scraping rock made Tina pause, tossing Queenie a glance before pressing forward. She knew it was only a matter of time until they came upon another obstacle; they'd triggered the prison's automatic defenses, and Leta had cautioned them about the evils likely to be at Grindelwald's command. Tina stared apprehensively into the shadowy depths, holding her breath, only to draw back in horror as understanding set in.

Several of the stones lining the corridors were sliding away, revealing hollow partitions hidden into the walls. Figures were emerging, dozens of them.

Tina stared around, panic seizing her, along with a powerful urge to bolt.

She'd been warned about this, known logically it was a strong possibility, but nothing could quite prepare her for the sight of thirty or forty corpses marching toward her, eyes empty and mouths rasping for a breath that would never come. Tina felt rather than heard Queenie tense behind her, and was struck with the sudden, unwelcome thought of how strange it must feel for her, to be surrounded by people but hearing no thoughts.

 _“SON_ of a-”

Jacob was fumbling at her side, squeezing frantically at his weapon as an enormous _BOOM!_ exploded into the corridor, one after another.

_BOOM!_

_BOOM!_

_BOOM!_

He struck again, and again, a string of curses jetting from the barrel of his gun. Several of the bodies collapsed, yet even now, they watched as one of the fallen continued to move toward them, its breath rattling as it pushed itself up onto its elbows. Tina shrieked, spotting a green-mottled face suddenly looming at them out of the darkness. She'd shot off a Stunner before she knew what she was doing; the creature stumbled, but did not fall.

“Mother _Mercy!”_

Tina gasped, forcing herself to catch her breath as she moved into combat position.The Inferius was now bolting toward her, its overlong fingernails clawing from outstretched hands. Tina realized with a jolt that it was a woman; she couldn't have been more than a few years older than she at her death, and her stomach swelled with thwarted life. Tina faltered, a scream dying in her throat.

A child had come running out from behind the woman's knee, grinning up at her with empty eyes. Tina stared at him for a split-second, her wand shaking in her hand, then summoned her voice.

_“INCENDIARMUM!”_

A fiery shield erupted between them, throwing the little boy backward with a hoarse yelp, and she could hear Jacob retching behind her. Tina moved forward, raising her wand. Warmth had flooded the corridor along with the fire's presence, steeling her resolve. She flicked her wrist, and the shield she'd conjured dissolved smoothly into a rope, the flames circling them and creating a perimeter within which they could move.

Queenie was trembling beside her, her face white. Tina said nothing, watching as the Inferi stumbled backward, hissing and cringing, before seeping slowly back into the walls. She nodded toward an adjacent hallway, breathing heavily as she gestured for them to follow her. “Come on,” she muttered. She was shaking more than a little herself, though she was attempting to suppress it. Queenie still looked very pale in the light from her wand.

They continued on in silence for awhile, several minutes passing by without incident as they followed the path of the corridor. There were no doors here, though the hall was decorated with rusted suits of armor and more than one grotesque statue, featuring mangled beings Tina tried her best not to study too closely. Jacob shuddered as they passed a long line of severed goblin heads, all mounted on placards along the corridor. Tina ignored him, careful not to look as she pushed steadily on.

“Teen?”

She turned, raising her eyebrows as she took in her sister's scrunched up face. Queenie paused.

“Does anybody else hear-?”

Her words were interrupted as the sound of rushing water filled the corridor; Tina gasped, her eyes darting to the bend of the hall several yards away. She stumbled backward a second later, spotting the low-level stream hurtling toward them. It was quite shallow, only a few inches off the ground, but something primal inside her warned that she must _not_ let it touch her.

“What the-” Jacob muttered, staring down as water started pooling around his ankles.

“Honey, get _back!”_ Queenie yanked fervently on his arm, her face stricken, but too late; he gasped in pain as the mysterious water seeped into his shoes, burning through the material and leaving angry blisters in their wake.

_“WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!”_

Tina sprang up like a shot, hovering near the ceiling as she tried to roll onto her stomach in midair. She turned, prepared to repeat the charm on Jacob, but Queenie had gotten there first. The sisters stared at each other, both floating over the cursed pool. Tina could feel her heart hammering in her chest. The water was bubbling innocently below them, scarcely more than three inches high.

“...Well, that one wasn't so bad,” Tina breathed, gazing down at it. She regretted her words instantly, cringing as her ears flooded with the unmistakable sound of surging water. Her gaze snapped toward the sound, her pulse quickening as she took in the sight of a ceiling-high torrent pummeling toward them.

_“Concelo Respirare!”_

A protective bubble formed around her head, expanding out to encompass her face as Tina was swept up in the current. A flicker of relief washed over her. Almost every inch of itched and burned, but at least she could _breathe_. It wouldn't last, though; they had only moments before the charm would need to be reapplied – she could already feel the barrier eroding at the base of her neck.

 _'It's marymal – cursed water - we have to swim through it!'_ Tina thought fervently, concentrating as hard as she could as she pushed herself onward. She saw Queenie nod from a few feet away, her own face distorted inside the bubble she'd conjured for herself, pulling Jacob along as they cut through the tide.

Things were getting fuzzier, and it dawned on her slowly that her vision was blurring from the pain. A flash of panic set in, soothed a moment later as she felt Queenie's hand close briefly on her wrist, squeezing gently before she released her again. Tina felt a rush of gratitude, her spirits rising as she battled through the acidic sea. She was a natural swimmer, her long agile limbs acting as built-in paddles as she propelled herself forward.

She could see darkness up ahead, the pivotal sign that the enchantment's range was fading. She pushed toward it feverishly, ignoring the screaming of her flesh, her eyes lock on her target. Her face felt like it was on fire; she took an enormous breath, knowing her oxygen was limited as the air bubble grew cracked before her eyes. They were so close...

With a final grunt, Tina sailed through the edge of the curse, falling to the ground with a gasp. She stood, panting, hearing Jacob and Queenie follow a moment later.

Tina's nails dug into her arms as she struggled to tear away her singed robes; burns and boils had erupted all across her body, but so much worse was the itching. It seemed to spread beneath her very skin, biting down to the bone, and she hastened to rub herself dry, conjuring three towels from thin air as her companions hastily snatched them up. “Do you mind?” she whispered desperately, meeting Jacob's eye.

“Oh - sorry, doll.” He turned away, giving her a bit of privacy as she clawed frantically at her threadbare clothing. She could hear Queenie moaning behind her, taking in the extent of his injuries. “...Oh, _Jacob_.”

Tina glanced over her shoulder, looking quickly away as she saw her sister pulling off his undershirt.

“Here, I brought dittany-” Tina grimaced, searching through her abandoned robes. She'd packed the standard first aid kit Aurors used in the field, she only hoped it hadn't been damaged. “Yes. Here.” Tina panted with relief, unstoppering the small bottle with her teeth. “Don't be stingy, I have another bottle,” she added, sighing as she squeezed a few drops onto one of the worst of her burns. Her skin bubbled; Tina watched as it faded from crispy red to its usual pale olive.

“Are you both all right?” Tina asked a few minutes later, once she'd addressed the majority of her wounds. Queenie nodded, looking exhausted. “Mine wasn't too bad, I was wearin' a lot of layers.”

Tina, who rarely bothered with the extensive undergarments expected of her sex, could not say the same. A nasty welt had spread across her back; she could still feel the liquid seeping into her, however vigorously she scrubbed with the towel.

“Lemme see it, honey,” Queenie murmured, and Tina obliged, closing her eyes as she granted herself a few precious seconds to recover. Already she could feel her sister's administrations, working a special magic of their own as she tended to her.

“...That better, Teenie?” Queenie asked softly, dabbing more of the liquid across her shoulders. Tina sighed, the familiar voice almost as soothing as the medicine itself. She nodded wordlessly, shivering at the sensation of the tonic dripping onto her raw skin.

“You relax for a sec, both of you. I'll get to work fixin' up your things,” Queenie promised, and Tina stood awkwardly, listening to Queenie hum quietly to herself as she dried the ruined clothing, then moved on to repairs, mending and replacing the burned, torn-up fabric.

“You're all set, honey. Now get dressed, so you can both stop feeling so embarrassed.”

Tina's face heated, and she shot her sister a Look as she pulled on her trousers. She could hear Jacob shuffling around behind her.

“Come on. Let's go,” she said firmly, finishing buttoning up her blouse. She moved gingerly, her wounds continuing to heal under the dittany's magic.

They rushed forward. Tina followed the curve of the corridor, hastening to pick up speed, well aware of how much time had already passed. Her footsteps echoed off the stone, like rain thundering against a windowpane.

The ghastly décor grew sparser as they delved further into the prison. Blank stone walls passed in a blur as they raced down the halls, their pace hindered by their damaged muscles. She could see a turn up ahead; Tina flew around the bend, only to screech to a halt a moment later, her mouth dropping open in disbelief.

It had to be intentional – a taunt of some sort, after what they had just endured.

A wall of flame was blocking their path – pure, red-hot fire, from floor to ceiling, stretching back as far as she could see. The heat tickled her skin; Tina could feel sweat forming across her brow, and she swallowed a sob.

“ _Aguamenti,_ ” she muttered, aiming carefully. A jet of water burst from her wand, only to bounce harmlessly off the wall of fire. _“Strignis,”_ Tina whispered, staring up at the flames. She took a deep breath, sticking out her foot experimentally, wondering if it was actually some sort of trick or illusion, only to draw back a second later wincing with pain.

Tina turned away, closing her eyes to concentrate. Queenie was gnawing on her lip, watching her with concern. “We can't get through here,” she said finally, opening her eyes.

“So...whadda we do?” Jacob asked tentatively.

Tina was quiet, thinking. “There's an alternate route leading off to a block of cells, if we take a side passage and go through the main corridor again.”

“What's the catch?” Jacob asked uneasily, hearing the tremor in her voice.

Tina swallowed, bracing herself. “That's where we encountered the Inferi,” she admitted. _“..._ Corpses,” she added hastily, off Jacob's confused look. A moment of silence followed this pronouncement, both of them growing pale, but after a second Jacob nodded determinedly, standing up a little straighter as he turned toward the direction Tina had glanced toward. She frowned, surprised to see the rueful smile twitching at his mouth.

“What?” she asked, scratching absently at a drop of marymal she'd missed. Jacob grinned, shaking her head.

“No, it's just - I usedta think I'd never be able to pay Newt back for giving me the loan for my bakery, but now...” Jacob drifted off. Tina chuckled weakly, rolling up her sleeves as she looked back toward the passageway adjacent to them.

“Come on,” she said quietly.

* * *

On the other side of the prison, two tall, thin figures were jogging down a bending corridor, slightly out of breath as they slowed to a walk.

“What _was_ that thing, do you think?” Theseus muttered, nursing his bleeding hand.

“I really have no idea,” Dumbledore said quietly, looking troubled. Theseus couldn't blame him; he felt troubled as well.

They'd been wandering the corridors for nearly half an hour now, and so far had managed to rescue a half dozen victims, though none of them the man they'd set out to save. Theseus could feel his impatience growing as the minutes ticked by, and it shamed him.

“....reeking haffock outside the Marr-ee-mohlblawck-”

Theseus leapt back, ducking into a corridor just as a large group of golden-robed men turned the corner, their voices growing louder. He pressed himself to the wall as Dumbledore crowded in beside him. The man's rumbling voice echoed off the stone walls, speaking in a thick Eastern European accent.

“Seh tamage was containt.” A second voice interrupted, sounding almost bored. This one sounded quite different, Theseus surmised; German, if he had to take a guess.

“If he returns, and discobers it is missing-!” the deeper voice hissed.

“Wheech is _why_ we are sorching,” the bored man spat. “ _Cohlm_ yourself, Velichkov.”

“It is dangerous to oolov us! _”_ he snapped back, his voice rising angrily.

“It will not cohm to sat,” the softer voice said smoothly.

Theseus peeked back around the corner, watching intently as the men continued down the hall. A rather tall, bristly-haired wizard was leading them; with his sharp, pointed features and narrow-set eyes, he reminded Theseus vaguely of pictures of rhesus monkeys Newt had sent him from his travels. He recognized this man immediately; he'd been one of the wizards who'd attacked them when they'd first arrived. Another man, shorter and with closely-cropped blonde hair, was stomping along in his wake. Both walked several steps ahead of the rest of the group.

“I vant to know how they got in!” The first man bellowed, sparks flying from the end of his wand. The blonde wizard leapt forward, pressing his own wand to the taller man's throat.

“ _You_ are seh one sat let sem pass,” he snarled. “A fact I will be sure to mention, if seh need arises.”

The monkey-faced wizard's lip curled, but he said nothing, and after a few seconds the German wizard dropped his wand, his eyes flashing. There was a brief moment of tension, where the others seemed to be waiting to see what would happen, but then the first man set off and all was well, their argument commencing as they disappeared around the arc of the corridor.

A second later the air seemed to shimmer, and then Theseus and Dumbledore were standing in the corridor again, their Disillusionment Charms lifted.

“Well, it looks like we're not the only one having trouble with old Spot,” Theseus remarked, looking satisfied.

Dumbledore nodded, wiping his face. “Shall we?” he asked quietly, sighing.

Theseus nodded. There was a row of doors up ahead; Theseus approached the first with no real hope, peering through the slit-shaped window in the door. His pulse skipped. He could just make out a small figure sitting against the wall.

“There's someone in this one,” Theseus breathed. Albus turned, his eyebrows rising in mild curiosity.

Theseus frowned, pressing his face against the narrow opening in an effort to see better. It was too dark to make out any detail, though judging by the size of the person and their long hair, he thought it might be a woman. His heart sank.

 _“_ _Liberare._ _”_

Theseus stepped back, allowing the door to swing open. The room was nearly black; Theseus lit his wand with a murmur as Dumbledore followed him inside.He held his breath, his gaze on the figure in the corner.

A tiny girl was huddled on the floor, her head in her knees as she rocked back and forth. She made no sign that she was aware of their presence. Theseus approached her slowly, not wanting to startle her.

She didn't move as Theseus knelt down a few feet away, and he crawled forward tentatively, finally touching her arm when she didn't respond.

The girl's head jerked up, and Theseus got his first look at her face. She was very young, not even of school age. A pair of round grey eyes peered back at him, wide and largely devoid of emotion. Theseus tried to smile kindly, his heart breaking. Tear stains tracked down the girl's cheeks, and her lips were pale and peeling. For a moment he could only stare, trying not to think about how thin her skin appeared on her bony face.

“Theseus.”

He felt Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder and nodded, knowing they needed to keep moving. Another glance at the girl's narrow frame told him she couldn't walk, and he hoisted her into his arms without a sound, wincing at how light she was.

“ _S'il vous plaît, je vous en supplie, _a__ _ _idez-moi!__ ” she sobbed softly, her voice muffled against his chest. __“Ma__ _ _mère__ _ _-”__

 _ _“__ _ _Oui__ _ _,__ _ _ne__ __t'inquiète__ _ _pas,”__ _Theseus said quickly, running his hand over her hair._ _ _“On est__ _ _là__ _ _pour__ _ _te__ __sauver.__ _ _”__

His voice, more than anything, seemed to startle the girl into awareness. She blinked, surveying him curiously. _“_ _Etes-vous_ _anglais_ _?”_ she asked shakily.

_“Oui, je m'appelle-”_

“I speak Eenglish,” she murmured, turning her foggy gaze on Dumbledore. “ _Please,_ my muzzer-”

“What about her?” Theseus asked anxiously, glancing over his shoulder at the door.

“We wore taken togezzer, I 'ave to _find_ 'er-”

“We will,” he promised, exchanging a tense look with Dumbledore. “Here. Eat this,” he added, offering her a piece of bread from his pocket. “You need your strength.”

She took it reluctantly, pulling timidly at the wrapper as if she'd forgotten how such a thing worked. “ _Merci_ _,_ ” she whispered, devouring it whole a second later. Theseus nodded, carrying her back toward the door. Dumbledore was already standing in front of it, peering through the tiny flap, looking out for any pursuers.

“...Who are you?” she mumbled, licking her fingers. Theseus glanced at her, then handed her a second roll without hesitation.

“Theseus Scamander,” he said gently. “I'm an Auror with the British Ministry of Magic.”

She sniffled, pulling away a bit to get a better look at his face. “Noémie.”

“ _Enchante._ ” Theseus threw her a small smile. “And this is Albus Dumbledore, an associate.” He lowered his voice. “Best not talk once we get in the corridor, though.”

Noémie nodded, and they moved forward, pulling open the heavy stone door and staring back and forth down the corridor. Only silence greeted them, and the sound of Noémie whimpering softly in his shoulder. Theseus could feel the little girl's heartbeat, fast and fearful, against his chest. The hallway was deserted now, a single torch flickering as they inched their way down the hall.

“Here.”

They'd reached the next cell in the tower block. Theseus slowed to a stop, watching as Dumbledore tapped his wand over the doorknob, pushing it open cautiously.

_“No.”_

Theseus frowned at the sound, looking up from where he'd been attempting to comfort the crying child. Dumbledore was standing in the doorway, his face blocked from sight, though his body had grown rigid.

“Professor?”

Dumbledore swayed.

“PROFESSOR!”

Theseus hurried forward, struggling to steady the tottering man without dropping the girl in his arms. Dumbledore didn't respond, his eyes on the heart of the prison cell. Theseus followed his gaze. The room was indistinguishable from Noemi's quarters, but it wasn't the lodgings that were remarkable, but rather the inhabitant.

A dark cloud was swirling in the center of the room, protected by a silvery, translucent magical bubble.

Theseus swallowed, staring at it for a moment before he managed to pry his eyes away, focusing on the man in front of them. “Professor. Are you alright?” he asked, taking in his expression.

“Dumbledore?” he repeated, his forehead creasing in concern. _“Professor Dumbledore!”_

* * *

Albus slipped clumsily to the ground, his mind flooding with images. From far away he could hear Theseus's concerned shout, but it was like listening to something underwater. Dumbledore stared ahead, his throat closing up as he gazed, unseeing, at the black spiral before him.

_He was crouching at the top of the stairs, peering down into basement below. The walls down here were made of stone, not unlike the room he was in now, though these were much lighter in colour. A 13-year-old Dumbledore darted forward, his shoulder-length auburn hair bouncing as he bounded down the steps._

_The post had just arrived, and with it so many wonderful things he was eager to tell her about; Albus grinned as he recounted it all in his mind. He would need his form signed, of course, that would be the first order of business. A glossy-paged copy of Transfiguration Today was stored under his elbow, still open to the page brandishing his letter to the editor, his signature printed across the bottom for the world to see. Best of all, Professor Flamel had actually written him back; Albus clutched the parchment tightly in his hand, the praise burning in his brain._

_Albus's smile fell. A tall, regal-looking woman was pleading desperately with a girl of ten, whose blood-curling scream threatened to crack the windows. The girl's fists beat against her thighs; his mother grabbed at them, in a futile attempt to keep her from hitting herself. The girl, whose charming features had twisted into an ugly scowl, gnashed her teeth at her, ducking out of reach. The woman's face was calm and determined as she patiently seized her daughter's wrists, ignoring the howl of frustration as the girl struggled fruitlessly to pull away._

_“I hate you!” she screamed. Her mother's face went blank. A second later the girl's hand had dissolved completely, turning to smoke as she slipped away._

“Professor.” Theseus's voice was sharp, and Dumbledore blinked, staring at him in a daze.

“Forgive me,” he said quietly, straightening. He couldn't quite support his weight, however, and became dimly aware of Theseus's arm hoisting him up, feeling equal parts grateful and ashamed.

“Are you alright?”

The French girl had started crying, and Dumbledore's chest seized painfully as he gazed down at her.

_But no, it wasn't the French girl, but another child, also blonde, though her eyes were not grey and horror-stricken, but rather blue and sparkling and full of life. Even as tears leaked from her face, her cheeks ruddy with anger, she was utterly, unambiguously lovely._

_And then Aberforth was there, screaming at him, and he was right of course, Albus was selfish. Albus did not deserve his precious sister, and so that sister was taken away._

_Ariana. Ariana, who needed him, and Aberforth, who knew it, and Albus, who had failed them all...Ariana, his baby sister, confused and terrified as the house shook with destruction...Ariana, lying dead on the floor, her bright blue eyes no longer twinkling as they stared blindly up at the ceiling._  


Dumbledore gasped, the walls of Nurmengard coming back with a flash. He stared around wildly, his breath coming out in sharp bursts. Theseus was staring at him in alarm. Dumbledore's gaze fell again to the girl; she was trembling, her shoulders wracked with sobs as Theseus gently lifted her back into his arms. Dumbledore swallowed, unable to speak.

“Noémie. Noémie, listen to me.” Theseus stroked the girl's cheek, his slate-colored eyes boring into hers. “You can't stay here with us, darling, I'm sorry.”

“Please don't leave me!” she whispered, her hands flying up to wrap around his neck.

“ _No_ , oh, nononono,” he breathed, tightening his embrace. “I'm just sending you back to England, it's not safe here, Noémie. A nice man is waiting who will take care of you until we return. Then we'll find your family and bring you home. Do you understand?”

 _“Je veux ma maman,_ ” she managed, her face streaked with tears.

Theseus tensed, his expression pained. “We will send your mother along as soon as we find her,” he whispered. “You must trust me, Noémie. You will be safe at home with her later tonight, I promise you.”

She nodded weakly, her eyes closed to stem the flow of tears. Theseus kissed her head, looking heartbroken.

He hadn't even needed to summon him; Fawkes was suddenly swooping overhead, his wide amber eyes looking down on the scene curiously. “...Stay with her until we need you,” he murmured, and Fawkes nuzzled his cheek in understanding. Theseus straightened, watching as Fawkes allowed Noémie to cling to his tail-feathers, disappearing in a swirl of flame a moment later.

Dumbledore witnessed all this in a daze, his mind conjuring images of a different little girl, with a different auburn-haired young man bending over her – he, too, had always been so much better with her than he'd ever been.

“Are you alright?” Theseus asked timidly, not daring to meet his gaze.

“I am,” Dumbledore said hoarsely. He was staring blankly at the wall, his lips barely moving.

Theseus faltered, glancing away before forcing himself to look at him. “We need to capture it.” He turned, surveying the floating bubble of energy intently. “We can't allow Grindelwald the opportunity to turn it into a weapon.”

“Quite,” Dumbledore replied, his face white.

Theseus exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples wearily as he contemplated the task before them. “Volumes of notes on every conceivable creature, and Newt couldn't take it upon himself to leave anything behind on how to move an Obscurus,” he mumbled. “Do you think it's safe to just-?”

“There's no need,” Dumbledore said quietly, his voice low. “I know how to do it.”

* * *

Tina wasn't sure how far she'd ran before she realized Queenie and Jacob were no longer behind her. She spun in a circle, eyes peeled, her heart sinking as she took in the empty corridors. A wave of dread washed over her. She'd failed at her most pivotal task – _keep Jacob and Queenie safe._

There was no time to feel afraid, she needed to move. Queenie was more capable than she looked, and nearly an hour must have passed already since they'd entered the prison. Even now, Grindelwald could be swooping up the path, wand drawn and determined to seek vengeance on those who had managed to breech his defenses – or worse, to take it out on the person they'd done it for.

She turned another corner, slowing to a stop as a row of doors appeared. Tina felt her heart drop, taking in the long expanse of cells and wondering where to begin. _“Hominem Revelio.”_

The first four cells were empty; Tina didn't know whether she should feel relieved or frightened by this. She hurried forward, pushing open the stone door of the next room in the line.

It was almost pitch black; she lit her wand wordlessly, looking around as the room was flooded with dim light. Her gaze fell on a hunched over figure, his hands chained to the walls with spikes. Tina swallowed, almost retching at his ravished appearance. The man looked only to be in his late 40s, but his face boasted premature lines. Dark bruises littered his emaciated skin, and a deep cut extended from his ear down to his collar bone. His robes were torn and dirty, ragged at the bottom from where they'd dragged along the floor.

He looked up at her, his voice worn and pleading.

 _“D_ _öda mig._ _Snälla_ _, döda mig.”_

She had no idea what he was saying, or even what language he was saying it in, but she forced a reassuring smile, hoping her expression would be enough to get the point across that she was friend, not foe. “It's okay,” she said firmly, releasing his binds with a wave of her wand. He fell to the floor in a heap, and Tina rushed forward, checking him for any serious injuries.

A noise behind her had her spinning on her heels, almost toppling over as she lifted her wand. Tina's heart filled with dread.

A hollow-faced wizard was standing in the doorway, his blonde hair slicked back at the top of his head. A pair of mismatched eyes leered at her.

 _“Tina,”_ he whispered. “I should have known I'd be seeing you soon. Always poking your nose in, trying to play the hero...” Grindelwald smiled, stroking his wand. “And it seems this time you've come to steal two of my favorite pets, and even release a few of the vermin while you're at it.” He tutted, his eyes shining wildly. “I'm afraid I can't let you do that, not at all...”

Grindelwald grinned, pointing his wand at her chest, and Tina's stomach sank as she watched his lips move soundlessly.

Tina twitched, feeling a strange, faintly-familiar feeling wash over her. It was as if every worry in her head had been wiped from the world.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry again for the French (and Swedish!), and any errors. Please feel free to correct me if you're more familiar with these languages, I won't be offended.  
> ETA: Thanks to blurryspookyjim and Mel72000 for the French help!  
> Here are the (intended) translations:
> 
> S'il vous plaît, je vous en supplie - “Please, I'm begging you.”  
> Aidez-moi! Ma mère- - “Help me, my mother-”  
> Oui, ne t'inquiète pas, on est là pour te sauver.- “It's okay, we're here to rescue you.”  
> Etes-vous anglais? - “Are you British?”  
> Je veux ma maman - “I want my mommy” (awwwwwwww).
> 
> PS. Yes, there is (finally) a Newtina reunion in the next chapter. I didn't even realize until the end that Newt didn't appear in this chapter at all, and I was just 0_0. 
> 
> PPS. You can follow my updates and get ~exclusive insights~ into my writings at my tumblr. Please feel free to leave your thoughts in a comment!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's kind of short, it's for pacing reasons. (I probably should have tagged this on to the end of chapter 8, but damn if I wanted that cliffhanger.) Next bit should be up very very soon. Within the next 24 hours, most likely. Still – we've finally got a reunion! *heart eyes*

Tina moved swiftly through the halls, following along a half pace behind Grindelwald's steps. They came upon a heavily-guarded intersection, weaving easily through the gauntlet as they followed the arc of the passage. Grindelwald paused when they reached a door at the very end of the corridor, turning to her.

“You know your task?” he murmured.

She stared back at him, her eyes blank. Grindelwald moved forward, his cloak swishing behind him. He watched her, his face inches from her ear. _'Seduce him.'_

She heard the voice as clearly as if he'd spoken aloud. Grindelwald edged closer, his eyes boring into hers. _'You must find out how he managed to contain it. Everything he's discovered about their strengths and weaknesses, how to subdue them, how to_ _ **control**_ _them.'_ The words echoed in her mind, repeating on a loop.

' _Touch him. Kiss him. Speak gently to him._ _ **Reassure**_ _him that he is alright, that he can trust you. His defenses will be down. He loves you. Exploit it._

_'Go. Find out what he knows about Obscurials – report back to me, you must remember everything - '_

“Go,” he whispered, his eyes glittering. Tina nodded silently, turning toward the cell. The door had come ajar; she moved toward it obediently, Grindelwald's triumphant laugh still ringing in her ears. The door clicked shut behind her, separating them.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness; she drew her wand, conjuring a line of torches to illuminate the room. A man was lying slumped against the wall, his naturally-thin frame reduced to something almost skeletal.

“ _NEWT!”_ Tina whispered anxiously, hurrying toward him. Her heart was racing as she fell to her knees, cupping his chin in her hand and forcing him to look at her. “Newt, _talk_ to me-”

He hummed, blinking a few times as he regained consciousness. A slow smile spread across his face. “Oh. Hello,” he murmured brightly.

Relief washed over her; Tina lunged forward, grinning, nearly crushing him in her tight embrace. Newt chuckled, burying his face in her hair.

“ _...Hello,”_ she whispered ruefully, a watery laugh escaping her throat. She pulled back, bringing her face to his until their noses brushed. Newt sighed, beaming at her. Tears were streaking down her face, and she was helpless to stop them.

“Nice to see you again,” Newt mumbled, gazing up at her.

Tina closed her eyes, willing herself to stop trembling. She was breathing rapidly now. She gave herself until the count of three to collect herself, then faced him, pushing back his hair from his forehead to study him. “Are you okay?” she whispered, searching his face.

“I am now,” Newt murmured, turning his cheek into her palm.

She sighed, wrapping her arms around his waist in a fierce hug, granting herself only a second of relief before she pulled back. Newt was smiling at her affectionately; he would have looked almost comical if the situation hadn't been so dire.

Tina blinked a few times, steeling herself. “Okay,” she muttered, exhaling slowly. “We need to go. Now.” She raised her wand, unshackling his binds in a few quick movements.

“Mmm,” he agreed, stifling a yawn. He brought his hand to her face, tipping her jaw toward him. Tina froze, her gaze meeting his as their lips hovered mere centimeters apart.

“...Newt?” she whispered, her eyes wide.

“Tina?” he mumbled, blinking at her in confusion. She faltered, watching as the love and hope faded from his eyes, only to be replaced with terror. _“Merlin.”_ He gasped, sinking a little lower down the wall, barely suppressing a shudder. Tears were brimming in his eyes. “...Are you real?” he croaked.

She stared at him for a moment, her heart contracting as the significance of his words washed over her.

“Yeah, I'm real,” she murmured, reaching for his hand. Newt groaned, rearing back.

“No,” he whispered, his chest starting to shake with sobs. “What are you-? _No!_ ”

“Shhh!” she hissed, glancing fearfully over her shoulder. She turned back, trying frantically to soothe him. “Shhh, shh, _Newt!”_

“NO!” he howled. “What were you thinking?” he whispered, his voice little more than a moan.

“It's okay!” she breathed. “It's okay Newt, it's _okay_. But we need to _move._ ”

He stared at her, allowing her to slip her arms around him to hoist him up. “How did you-?”

“He thinks I've been Imperiused,” she explained, grunting as she shouldered his weight. “Can you stand?”

He blinked. “I think so,” he mumbled, giving her a very disoriented look. “Did you say-?”

“Grindelwald tried to put the Imperius Curse on me,” Tina repeated. “I played along, realizing it might be useful, and it was, he led me straight to you. But come on, h-”

“You were _Imperiused?”_ Newt gasped, staring at her.

Tina shrugged, eyeing him with some concern as she began rooting around in her pockets for something. “We learn resistance to magical influence the first year of Auror training. I've spent _hours_ learning to throw that off, it's second nature by now...Here,” she added, handing him a demiguise-shaped bread roll and offering him a sad smile. “I figured you'd be hungry.”

Newt sighed, accepting it gratefully. “Thank you.”

“And here, you could use a good dose of Strengthening Solution, and – dammit-” she was rummaging in her cloak again. “Here.” She pulled the elusive item out of an inside pocket. “Take this. I know you're not exactly in fighting shape right now, but you should at least have a wand.”

He took it reluctantly, feeling relief wash over him when it turned warm in his hand. “Eleven and three-quarter inches, cherry, dragon heartstring,” she muttered, off his curious look. “Theseus picked it out.”

“He did well,” he murmured, waving it tentatively. It wasn't as good as his own wand, but for a substitute, it wasn't at all bad. He flinched, his muscles giving a reluctant twinge as he lifted his arm. It seemed he wasn't going to be winning any duels right now anyway.

“We need to go,” she said firmly, her voice low. “Queenie and Jacob are here, and Dumbledore, with your brother. Grindelwald has gone to search for them, they'll need our help-”

Newt nodded, trying to move for the door and immediately stumbling. Tina grabbed him, holding him up. “I've got you,” she whispered, swallowing as she stared into his eyes.

“You can't fight and hold me up,” he mumbled, averting his gaze.

“I won't need to.” Tina raised her wand. _“_ _Facio laevis.”_

A peculiar sensation stole over him; it was a bit like the feeling of rising into the air on a broom, except he was staying firmly put. He blinked, realizing with a jolt how much easier it had just become to remain standing.Understanding washed over him; he looked at Tina in amazement. _He'd been made weightless._

“Come on,” she urged, pulling him forward.

Grindelwald had left a guard outside; Tina heard him slump to the ground as she dragged Newt past, her Stunning spell having hit him between the eyes.

A crashing sound came from around the corner, and they both broke into a run, Newt bouncing a little on every step.

Their footsteps echoed down the long passageways, drowned out only by the thundering of her heart. There were more noises in the halls, now; it seemed Grindelwald's forces had become wise to the danger.

Tina held her breath, helping Newt along. A glance at his face to check his status had her barely suppressing another broad grin, though she forced her lips to remain still. There would be time for warmer reunions and celebrations later.

A sudden shout from the corridor ahead made her tense again; Tina turned, yanking Newt behind her protectively. Someone was shouting in German, she heard a scuffling and spun around, her wand clutched tightly in her hand.

A stubby-chinned wizard she recognized from their arrival had come tearing around the corner, limping heavily. Tina raised her wand defensively, pausing only when she saw the blood flowing from his gut. His hands were empty; he'd been disarmed at some point. A second wizard came sprinting out behind him, rattling off jinxes at every angle he could reach.

They weren't alone, however; a moment later a heavyset man had come barreling around the corner, bellowing a war cry as he ran.

“AAAAAAAUUGGHHHH!”

Jacob Kowalksi was pummeling down the corridor, brandishing a shotgun and shooting off Stunners at both men's backs. The second wizard ducked, dodging the first round, only to trip over his fallen comrade and go skidding across the stone walkway.

Four of Grindelwald's guards were streaking after them, dodging spells and firing off some of their own. Tina leapt into action, taking two of them down with identical flicks of her wand; the third Reiniger hissed angrily over his shoulder, throwing back a retaliatory curse. She spun out of the way, missing his attack by inches, and shot off a Stunner just as Newt hit him with a well-aimed jinx. The man crashed to the floor, his face erupting in boils.

It was Queenie who took out the last one, her _Pullus_ Jinx causing him to turn an unpleasant shade of yellow before his knees gave out; he fell to the floor, feathers sprouting across his body as he gave an indignant squawk. Tina hurried toward her, jumping cleanly over the pimply-faced man and pulling her sister into a hug.

“What happened?” she asked anxiously, stepping back and starting to check her over for injuries.

“Three guards came outta nowhere, four or five others heard the commotion and came to help, we was fightin' three-against-one at one point,” Queenie gasped, clutching a stitch in her side. “Then one of the Reinigers blasted off a curse that rebounded off Jacob's, half the hall got blown away – everything got balled up real fast then. Cells were streaming open and Fawkes took a buncha prisoners to safety-”

“ _Fawkes?”_ Newt asked, glancing at Tina in astonishment.

“It's how we got in,” she explained, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow and missing Newt's admiring expression as she went to work mending Queenie's torn sleeve.

“Everything just went to hell after that, there was some sorta creature on the loose-” Jacob chimed in, panting weakly.

“What? What sort of creature?” Newt asked, turning to stare at him in concern.

Jacob shrugged, dabbing his face with a handkerchief. “I dunno what it was, I ain't never seen anything like that in your case,” he managed. “And we all started feelin' kinda funny-”

“Funny how?” Newt interrupted. Jacob shook his head, still trying to catch his breath.   
“We all ran for it - it musta gone the other way, along with the rest of them Rainigors fellas.” He sighed, straightening. “By the way,” he muttered, stumping over to smack him on the back. A broad grin spread across Jacob's face. “Good to see ya, buddy.”

Newt blushed, patting him back with awkward little movements. “Thank you,” he said quickly, then frowned, glancing down the hall. “What did the creature _look_ like?” he pressed, his brow furrowing.

Jacob paused, scratching his ear. “I didn't get a good look at it, to be honest. It was kinda round and gray, I guess, and everyone started lookin' real bummed out and slumpy when it showed up ...beats me what Grindelwald wanted with the damn thing. It musta got out when the wall got blown up-”

“It wasn't the only thing,” Queenie whispered.

Tina turned, glancing at her curiously. Queenie was staring down the passageway, mesmerized at something framed in the entrance of the corridor.

She followed her gaze.

A young man was standing less than fifty yards away, his dark hair falling over his bowed forehead. Tina's chest seized, her mouth dropping open as she took in the familiar face.

Credence Barebone was alive.

  
  


  
  


 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied through my teeth about when to expect this chapter, I know. Forgive me? I've been caught up working on the sequel. It's gonna have FLUFF.

Tina felt the blood drain from her face. The boy she'd seen die nearly two years before was now standing before her, looking pale and trembling but very much alive. It was like a dream; she'd hoped so many times for a second chance to save him, and here he was.

Tina's breath caught, and she took a tentative step forward, her mind catching up with her senses. He was _crying._ “...Credence?” she whispered. “Do you remember me?”

He didn't respond. His head was bowed, shoulders tensed and shaking.

“Credence,” she repeated, her voice still soft. “Credence, let me help you.”

He looked up, his eyes slowly raising. “Don't lie,” he spat, his voice cracking.

“I'm not lying,” she said gently. “Please. Come with us.”

“Credence.”

Tina and Credence both turned. Newt was limping forward, his hand tentatively outstretched. “Credence, I need you to listen to me,” he said softly.

“ _NO!”_

Tina jumped back, clutching her wand a little tighter. “Credence...” she murmured quietly, a small smile breaking out across her face. “This is – a _miracle_. You are...a miracle.” Tina laughed tearfully. Credence's eyes narrowed.

“A _miracle_ ,” he whispered, glaring at her. Tina paused, trying to remember how to breathe. Credence's jaw twitched.

“I hate you,” he moaned. Tina bit her lip, her eyes filling with tears.

She heard Queenie shriek as he disintegrated, Credence's long limbs evaporating into a smoky substance as he reared up in the air, preparing to strike.

Perhaps it was Tina's imagination, but he seemed somehow less impressive than he'd been in New York, though no less terrifying. His Obscurus was smaller than she remembered, less agitated, though this wasn't enough to keep her from grabbing Newt by the arm and yanking him backward as the creature attacked.

“Run,” she whispered.

They tore down the hallway, Tina's hand still clutching Newt's sleeve as their feet pounded the ancient stone. She was running for her life, Newt stumbling along beside her, his muscles atrophied and still unaccustomed to his weightlessness. She could hear Queenie and Jacob a few paces behind them, Jacob panting but just managing to keep up.

They ran until their legs burned, following the curve of the corridor deeper and deeper into the fortress. She had no idea where they were going, focusing only on the goal of moving forward, of getting these people she loved to safety. Stone doors flew by in a blur, but they meant nothing to her; they were moving too quickly to keep track of the floor plans she'd studied so carefully. She was listening for the sounds of crashing, of a Dark Force blasting out the stone walls, but it did not come. She didn't dare look back, terrified that she would see her sister being thrown into the air, or Jacob, lying dead on the floor.

Just when she thought her muscles were going to catch fire, they came upon the end of the hall; Tina slowed to a stop, looking around. A door was ajar just to their left, she darted inside without a second thought, moving aside so the others could follow.

She slammed the door the moment Jacob had passed through, her heart racing as she took in their surroundings. They were in some sort of chamber; she could see another long hallway just across from the door they'd passed through. They were surrounded by darkness, but as long as they remained alone, it seemed unwise to light their wands, lest they draw attention to their whereabouts. After a few seconds her eyes began to adjust, and Tina blinked around the room, gasping heavily.

“Why ain't he followin' us?” Jacob wheezed, bending over to catch his breath. Tina didn't answer, her head turned to listen to any sounds in the corridor behind them.

“I don't think he can,” Newt mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Tina turned to stare at him. She could barely see him in the low light, though she knew his features well enough to distinguish his apprehensive expression.

“How could you know that?” she asked shrewdly, moving toward him.

Newt blinked, glancing up at her. “...What?” he asked innocently.

“How could you _know_ that?” she repeated, her eyebrows contracting. Newt stared at her.

“Just an – educated guess,” he said uncomfortably.

Tina fumed, practically hopping up and down on her heels. “So what you're saying is, we could have safely captured him if we'd stuck around?” she exclaimed.

Newt hesitated. “Erm – possibly.” He frowned. “I'm not exactly sure, I can't quite-”

Tina stared at him for a moment, suspicion arising in her throat. “Did you _know_ he was _here_?!” she demanded, taking a step forward.

“No,” Newt said quickly, walking backwards in several long strides. Tina pressed her advantage, cornering him against the stone wall as she fought to control her temper.

“What's going _on?”_ she muttered, speaking through gritted teeth. “How could Credence have survived the attack in the subway?

“I'm really not sure,” Newt confessed. “It's all so –” He broke off, his brow furrowing. _“Everything_ is...fuzzy...I was - researching Obscurials?” he asked tentatively.

Tina felt a prickle of fear. “You don't remember?” she asked, searching his face. _What exactly had Grindelwald done to him?_

Newt paused, looking uncertain. “I think...I was worried about dangerous information falling into the wrong hands –” he said slowly. “The swooping evil was there-”

Tina's anger returned with a boil as realization set in. “You POISONED yourself?!” she yelled, her eyes widening in shock.

“Seems so,” he chuckled, uncomfortably meeting her gaze.

“Well, that's _fantastic,”_ Tina said dryly, stepping back.

“It's alright,” Newt promised. “Grindelwald figured it out, he's been force-feeding me the antidote. It's just all coming back bit by bit.”

Tina opened her mouth, on the verge of snapping back and unsure if she wanted to scream or cry, but was distracted by a clearing of a throat a few feet away.

“Did – did anybody else hear that?”

Tina turned, frowning at the tremor in Jacob's voice. “What?” she asked curiously, stepping toward him. Before he could answer, she heard a shudder from behind her; Tina spun around, her eyes widening in concern as she watched Newt fall to his knees. “What's the matter?” she exclaimed, hurrying to his side. “Newt?”

She tipped his head back, studying him. _“Newt,”_ she repeated, squeezing his shoulder. Newt blinked at her, looking dazed. “Talk to me,” she whispered. Newt closed his eyes, tears brimming as he failed to suppress his sob.

“What's happened?” Tina demanded, staring up at her sister for help. “Is he hurt?”

“No, he's... _sad.”_ Queenie stepped forward, looking perplexed.

“Sad?” Tina repeated, squinting as she clutched her wand a little tighter. Her breath caught. “Dementors?”

“No - it's not an... _empty_ sadness, it's more...this sense o' pain and despair,” Queenie said thoughtfully, taking another step closer. “He's been feelin' like this since he got here, but it's never been this intense.”

Tina had no idea what that meant, only that it didn't sound good. She gazed at Newt in concern, pushing his hair back. “Newt, it's okay, I promise, it's going to be okay. This isn't real. Grindelwald's done something to you, you have to fight it.”

“I can't,” he murmured, looking up at her sorrowfully.

“Of course you can,” she coaxed, stroking his face. “I'm right here Newt, we're going to get you home sa-” she was cut off by a scurrying sound behind her; Tina glanced over her shoulder, her brows furrowing.

“There it is again!” Jacob exclaimed, looking around wildly. “It sounds like somethin' movin-”

Tina stood, raising her wand. Newt let out a shuddering gasp from the floor. Jacob groaned, burying his head in his hands a few feet away. “Is anyone else feelin' a bit – funny?” he muttered, looking up at them through his fingers.

Tina paused, assessing herself. She did, actually, had noticed it growing in her gradually over the past hour. It was dark in here, and chilly, but it was more than that. She felt strangely.... _desolate_.“I don't like this,” Tina muttered. Her eyes scanned the shadows, searching the darkness.

“There's somethin' in here,” Queenie whispered; she sounded terrified.

Tina frowned, shaking back her sleeves. _“Lum-_ AUUUUUUGH!”

Something had knocked the wand right out of her hand; Tina jumped backward, feeling something slimy rub against her skin, and in the subsequent scuffle managed to knock away whatever had attacked her. There was a clattering noise as her wand hit the floor, and then a _clump_ as something heavier followed.

Light filled the room; Queenie had successfully lit her wand, and Tina scrambled for her own, yelping when the creature jumped on her again.

“ _STUPEFY!”_

Queenie had leapt forward, her wand pointed at the snapping creature; Tina felt it drop from her arm, still-conscious but blasted back by the force of the spell. She climbed to her feet, taking several hasty steps back even as it raised itself to strike again.

“ _Stupefy!”_

It was Tina who had acted this time, her spell landing square on the creature's flank. It gave a terrible yelp, baring its teeth as it inched forward.

“Uhhhh...someone wanna tell me what that thing is?” Jacob asked nervously, edging away from it. It was fairly small, the size of an average terrier perhaps, with gray skin and very protuberant red eyes.

“I'm not-”

“Oh, _uh uh!_ ” Jacob shouted, grimacing as the creature turned toward him. It eyed him hungrily, darting forward, and Jacob reared up, giving it a swift kick as it leapt into the air. It landed with a _clomp_ several yards away, its limbs sprawled across the floor. The creature paused, taking in their number as it climbed back to its feet, then began to circle them, glaring menacingly.

Tina stared at it. There was something familiar about this; she remembered something from Newt's book... “I know this,” she mumbled. “It's a porlump – or a po – it's something like -”

“It's a pogrebin,” Newt whispered. She turned to stare at him. “Or some relation, at least. I suspect it's been bred or mutated in some way. It's bigger than it ought to be, and those Stunning spells should have worked.” He wasn't looking at her, just staring morosely at the floor.

“Are you alright?” Tina asked softly, helping him up. The creature was still pacing at the other side of the room, drool dripping from its fangs, though it seemed, for now at least, unwilling to pursue. Newt didn't reply.

“So - what the hell's a poker-ben?” Jacob asked, staring down at the growling creature with apprehension.

“A forest demon,” Tina remembered, turning to watch its progress. “It instills its prey with a sense of hopelessness, gradually draining it of its energy until it can-”

“Newt, get _back!_ ” A shout had cut her off, and Tina spun on her heel, surprised to hear the edge in her sister's voice. Queenie's eyes were wide and anxious, her voice rising in pitch as she hurried forward to grab Newt's sleeve. He shook her off. “Newt, _no!”_ she squealed again, pulling on him again as he moved toward the creature. Tina hastened to join her.

“Newt. Come on, step back with me,” she said gently, taking his hand. The pogrebin was slinking toward them; Tina gave Newt a firm yank in the opposite direction, a little harder than necessary - forgetting, for a moment, that the effects of her Featherlight Charm were still in place - but he seemed to scarcely even notice. The creature reared, its mouth watering. Tina felt a flash of fear as she heard Newt's resigned little sigh in response.

“Newt. NEWT!” Tina shrieked, seizing him as he started to collapse. She threw her arms under his, propping him up as he attempted to sink to the ground. “Stop it,” she snapped. “Stand up. Come on, Newt.”

“There's no point,” he said hoarsely.

“There's _every_ point,” she disagreed.

The pogrebin's ears had turned up, its eyes widening eagerly. “Get back,” Tina said sharply, staring at it. She pointed her wand at it threateningly, and the creature hissed, baring its teeth.

Tina glared back at it, trying to keep her expression reassuring as she filtered through jinxes in her mind, but Newt had buried his head in her shoulder, moaning quietly. He was whining softly; she could feel his breath on her neck. “ _Newt!_ ” she said firmly, taking his face in her hands. “Stay with me. Concentrate on my voice.”

“I can't,” he whispered. “I'm so sorry, Tina, I can't-” He was shivering in her arms; her face fell as she wiped a stray tear from his cheek.

Tina hesitated. “...Newt, it's alright,” she promised. She pressed his forehead to his, palming his jawline. “I'm right here. You're going to be okay, you know.”

He stared at her, his eyes widening hopefully as they lowered to her mouth. Tina's brow furrowed as she gazed back at him.

The door blasted open with a crash.

Tina spun around, her wand already brandished in front of her as she faced off against the intruder. A wave of relief washed over her as she watched the man slip through the doorway, a furious look on his face as something silver erupted from his wand.

Tina watched, gaping, as a beautiful silvery winged horse galloped into the cell, throwing its head back in defiance. Her gaze shifted toward the man standing in the doorway – the Caster of the patronus, who was now staring at his little brother with gleaming eyes.

The distraction was what the pogrebin had been waiting for; Tina shrieked as he leapt forward, feeling him sink his teeth into her sleeve. A yelp of pain escaped her.

“Tina!”

She groaned as she felt the creature draw blood, waving her arm frantically in an attempt to shake him off, but its fangs were latched into her skin. A second later she screamed again, ducking clumsily as she felt sparks brush against her.

Newt, Theseus, and Queenie had all moved as one, identical red Stunning Spells shooting from every direction. Their combined efforts did what one had not; the creature fell to the floor, motionless, and Newt hurried toward her.

“Are you alright?” Newt murmured, pulling back her sleeve to survey the damage. She simply stared at him, her heart hammering in her chest.

“It's not too bad. I'm afraid we'll have to wait to heal it, you need Essence of Murtlap to keep it from scarring...”

She nodded blankly, turning her gaze on the fresh faces that had just entered the room. Theseus's silvery horse was still trotting around the cell, forming a circle of protection around them.

She was distracted from this dazzling sight by something even more amazing, though she couldn't say it had nearly the same uplifting effect on her spirits - Dumbledore had stumbled after Theseus into the chamber, his face pale and expressionless as he slumped against the wall. Tina stared at him, unnerved; the light seemed to have gone from his eyes. She shifted toward him, frowning thoughtfully as Newt gently disengaged from her embrace.

“ _Newt.”_ It was Theseus who spoke, his voice betraying his relief as he brought his younger brother into his arms. Tina glanced their way, smiling slightly at the display of affection, though her attention was elsewhere. Her eyes widened in alarm as she watched Dumbledore suddenly slide a few inches down the wall. She hesitated, seeing Queenie move forward as well, and decided to keep her place, not wanting to overwhelm the already traumatized-looking man. She turned instead to watch the heartwarming sight before her, though she couldn't help shooting anxious looks at the scene unfolding in front of the door.

Theseus's embrace lasted longer than any Newt could remember in a very long time, and it was several long seconds before he managed to take a tentative step back, feeling his own eyes begin to tear. Newt was smiling as Theseus ruffled his hair, just as he'd done when they were children, and Newt gazed determinedly at the ground as he shifted his weight before him.

“Are you alright?” Theseus muttered quietly, his hand on Newt's shoulder. “Have you eaten?”

“I'm fine,” Newt said firmly, flashing him a reassuring smile. “Tina's been taking excellent care of me.”

“Then I owe her my thanks twice over,” Theseus said softly, glancing toward her. Tina had been edging her way over to Dumbledore's sunken figure, her expression equal parts curiosity and concern.

“Tina?”

She bit her lip, glancing at them over her shoulder. “...Is he okay?” she whispered, her brow furrowing. Theseus followed her gaze. Dumbledore's eyes were closed, but he could tell he was awake; his chest was moving in small, even breaths. Theseus winced.

“He's been a bit odd,” he admitted, his voice low. “He saw the Obscurus and just...shut down. We were already feeling off, we ran into this wretched little beast earlier.” He turned the pogrebin over with his foot. “It seems to have some sort of Dementor-like attributes, hence our Aethonan friend here.” He glanced at the winged horse still cantering around the cell. Tina nodded wearily, watching as Queenie stooped in front of the older man, whispering something under her breath Tina couldn't hear.

“Where's Grindelwald?” she asked, turning back to Theseus. “I saw him earlier, but he disappeared-”

“I think he went to call reinforcements,” Theseus replied, pulling up Newt's sleeve to investigate his injuries. His wand moved carefully over his body, healing some of the residual scrapes and bruises. “We need to get out of here,” he said tensely, examining a particularly nasty cut on Newt's upper arm.

Tina grimaced. “We can't. There's an Obscurial on the loose,” she explained quickly, eyeing the cut with trepidation and rummaging in her pocket for the leftover dittany.

Theseus shook his head. “I captured it already. It's in the case,” he explained, patting his pocket.

“There are two,” she corrected him. “We need to recapture it before we can leave, we can't let Grindelwald experiment on him-”

“What are you talking about?” Theseus demanded, flabbergasted.

“Ask Newt,” Tina said calmly, though her eyes were sharp. “In fact, I think I'd like to hear this myself,” she added, folding her arms.

Newt faltered, looking flustered. Theseus turned to stare at him, still holding his elbow.

“I really don't think this is the time for that, we need to focus on locating him before Grindelwald can amass-”

Tina ignored this, cutting him off. “Did you know Credence was here?” she asked, her voice low.

“ _No,”_ he pressed, swallowing nervously.

Tina paused, pursing her lips together. “But you knew he was alive,” she said quietly, and there was a glimmer of pain in her eyes as she faced him. “You've been tracking him, haven't you?”

Newt blinked, not being able to bear her expression. “...I'm really not sure,” he confessed. “I think...I might have been taking care of him,” he said uncertainly.

“You've – _what?”_ she asked shrilly, stepping toward him.

“He's ill, still suffering the results of the attack. He's not lethal, but he can only take his physical form for bits at a time.” Newt hesitated. “I've been feeding him, giving him Restorative Draught...”

Tina's lip was trembling; she pursed her mouth to force it to stay still. “Why didn't you _tell_ me?”

Newt stared at her, his heart sinking at her hurt expression.

“I-” he blanched. “Perhaps – we could discuss this later?” he suggested, rubbing the back of his neck.

Tina turned away, blinking rapidly. “...We need to keep moving,” she agreed. “We need to find the Obscurial,” she said firmly, addressing Theseus. “We can't let Grindelwald experiment on him. He's weak, like Newt said, maybe together we'll have a shot at capturing him.” She glanced at Dumbledore. “Can he be moved?” she added doubtfully.

Dumbledore had climbed to his feet, with Queenie and Jacob's aid. He stood teetering in the corner, gazing half-consciously at the doorway behind them. His face had turned very white.

“I think so,” Queenie murmured, and Dumbledore buried his face in his chest as she draped his arm over her shoulder.

“Come on. We need to get going,” Theseus said quietly, leading them out of the cell.

Theseus's Patronus accompanied them down the corridor, finally vanishing as they made their second or third turn, the pogrebin left well behind them. They raced along, moving as quickly and quietly as they could manage. Newt could feel the effects of Tina's charm wearing off a bit; his legs grew heavier and heavier as they pushed along. He saw Tina stop in front of him and slowed his pace, coming to stand beside her and letting his gaze wander to take in their surroundings.

They were on a sort of landing in the center of the tower. A set of winding stairs wrapped around the middle, reminding Newt unpleasantly of the entrance to Professor Dippet's office back at school.

Countless corridors branched off from the main landing, each with a cast-iron door with a full-length pane of glass inlaid behind an elaborate design. It was Grindelwald's mark, he realized; a large triangle, embedded with a circle, completed by a bisecting vertical line.

“Think back to the plans,” Theseus said pensively, turning in a circle as he considered the layout. “Where might the Obscurial have went to hide?”

“He could be in any one of dozens of empty cells,” Tina sighed, rubbing her arms as the chill suddenly grew stronger.

“I expect he would have sought out somewhere isolated,” Newt muttered, clearing his throat.

“Maybe the second or third floors?” Tina guessed, glancing at Theseus. “It's minimal security, he might have laid low there if he couldn't get past the guards at the entrance-”

“Clever, but you're forgetting something. I'm not hiding anymore.” A quiet voice had broken through their musings. They all stiffened, turning toward one of the doors. It was hanging open, a young man in his early 20s standing in the threshold, his black eyes shadowed in his bowed head. He glared at them one-by-one, his eyes landing on Newt's for a brief second before glancing angrily away. Tina's heart skipped a beat.

“Credence,” she whispered, her voice gentle. “Credence, we can help you-”

“Be quiet!” he demanded, jerking harshly. His lower lip curled, rage radiating from his eyes as he took her in. “...You're all liars,” he moaned, his shoulders shaking. “You _deserve_ it,” he hissed, meeting her gaze.

Tina sighed, her expression torn.

She heard sparks sputtering and frowned. Her eyes fell toward the sound, her breath catching as she absorbed the sight of Credence clutching something tightly in his fist.

He had a wand.

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Yes, the escape is next chapter. It's already written. Sorry for the cluster of action scenes, I hope it didn't get to be too much. I was trying really hard to clear up all the loose ends. Hopefully it works.)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We're nearing the end here, friends. :') Thank you so much for sticking with me. There is one chapter left after this, which will be a sort of resolution/aftermath sort of thing. (And yes, there will be lots of Feels.) A sequel is already in the works, which will be a multi-part story detailing Newt and Tina's courtship. You can expect a lot more fluff, and a lot less action (well, unless you count the other kind of "action"). It's going to be a lot of fun.
> 
> And now, for the long-awaited escape from Nurmengard, I give you -

A tense silence had settled over the hall. Tina held her breath, releasing it in a soft gasp as she took in the sight before her. Credence's fist was clenched, his knuckles whitening around the roughly-hewn wand nestled between his fingers. Tina stared at it, recognizing the unique color and texture of the bone casing.

“...You don't know how to use that,” she said quietly, moving neither closer nor further away.

“I think I can manage,” he whispered.

Tina looked up at him, her heart breaking. “I don't think you want to,” she said firmly, and her voice was gentler than anything he'd heard in his life. Credence hesitated for a moment, then stiffened, his grip on the stolen wand tightening.

“Credence, we're in danger,” she said softly. “We need to leave. We can take you to safety, take care of you-”

“ _Liar,”_ he spat. Credence's voice shook, and there was a wetness to his dark eyes that made them almost glow. “You're just like the rest of them. You're just like _him_!” He pointed to Newt, the wand still clutched between his fingers. Sparks flew from the tip, igniting the robes of the guard lying unconscious on the ground. Tina moved instinctively, putting them out with a flick of her wand, before turning to face him again.

“Credence, _listen_ to me,” she urged. “There's a _creature_ back there, it's dangerous. It's bound to wake up soon, in a few minutes none of us will be thinking clearly...”

Credence was silent, fingering the wand as he studied her. Tina groaned, pressing forward. “There's a bad, bad man running around, a man who'd like to see us all dead-”

“He can't kill me,” he said hoarsely. “I'm going to kill _him._ ” He looked up at her, his black eyes shining. “...I'm not afraid anymore.”

Newt moved forward, his voice persistent and coaxing. “Credence. You're ill, you're not strong enough to attack. Let us _help_ you-”

“ _DON'T - TALK - TO - ME!”_ Credence screamed, his face contorting into pure pain. He raised the wand, his head bowed as he directed it at Newt's chest. “How dare you talk to me like we're _friends?!_ You think I don't know what you are?” He was sobbing now, his words shaking as he gripped the wand a little tighter. “Do you think I'm _stupid?”_ he whispered. Credence closed his eyes, his voice breaking. _“_ How _could_ you?”

He was trembling horribly, and Tina knew was about to happen a second before it did. Credence's body tore apart with a flurry, his milky skin darkening as he turned to ash.

“ _NOOOOOOO.”_

Tina shuddered, her breath stolen away. A terrible moan had filled the hall, a moan that reminded Tina of nights sneaking into a hospital room thousands of miles away, of pockmarked faces and bottles of potion that in the end had been thinner than water. It was the sound of grief, the sound of a suffering that could not be lessened, but for the blessing of time. She froze, turning slowly toward it.

Albus Dumbledore was sinking against the wall, an electricity surging through him that had forced Queenie and Jacob to release him. Queenie hurried forward again, ready for another attempt to comfort him, but he was shaking almost as violently as Credence had been only a moment before.

“Please. No, no, _not HER...”_

“It's alright. You're gonna be alright,” Queenie said soothingly. The Obscurus radiated strangely above them, expanding and contracting, then coiled into a Dark shadow.

“PLEASE!” Dumbledore crawled forward, his blue eyes glittering with tears. Newt looked away, feeling as if he'd just intruded on something indecent. Beside him, tears streaked freely down Tina's face.

The Obscurus was flying toward them, the walls starting to collapse with the force of its wind, and Theseus's shout rang through the air.

“ERECTO!”

The falling ceiling halted, reforming, prevented from collapsing in on them all. The Obscurus exploded with rage, and Tina watched in horror as the pieces gathered again, slowly reforming to form a dark-haired young man, his shoulders heaving as he struggled to draw breath. She understood; Newt had been right, Credence was weak, he seemed scarcely able to even maintain his form, much less outright attack.

“Nooooooo.”

Tina turned again, her heart breaking. Dumbledore was hyperventilating on the floor, staring desperately at the spot where Credence's Obscurial had hovered.

Below, Credence had begun to tremble again, his face screwing up in a howl of frustration. Tina cringed at the sound, reacting quickly as she spotted him raise the wand once more, his hand shaking as he pointed it at Newt's chest.

“ _STUPIFY!”_

Her hands flew to her ears, blocking them from the worst of the damage. The wand exploded like a gunshot, red sparks scattering blindly across the room. Credence soared backward, rebounding off the wall with an unpleasant _thud_.

“That won't work,” Newt muttered, looking up at him imploringly. Credence was already climbing to his feet, scrambling to pick up the abandoned wand. Newt sighed, watching him. “There is so much you don't understand, Credence. We can teach you-”

“I don't believe you,” he said stubbornly, staring down in confusion at the wand in his hand.

“What don't you believe?” Newt murmured. Credence glared at him, brandishing the wand, though his hand was vanishing before their very eyes.

“You're WORKING for him!” Credence bellowed, tears streaming down his face. His arms had disappeared entirely, converted into that terrible cloud-like substance, and Dumbledore gave another wail of distress.

“No. No, I promise you,” Newt said gently. Tina moved toward him, following his gaze.

“Credence,” she pleaded. “Please, we want to help you-”

“LIAR!”

His torso was vanishing, the smoke inching toward them, and Tina darted forward, blocking Newt from view. “STOP!” she shouted, shielding him with her body.

Credence's scream filled the air, roaring with frustration. He dissolved again, moving forward to strike, and Tina felt an icy burn on her flesh as he brushed over them, though it was gone as quickly as it came. She'd been blown backward with the force of the blast, Newt falling to the ground behind her.

Credence was sobbing, himself again, though his legs seemed barely able to support his weight. Already he was trying to transform again; she could see his hands darkening. “You tricked me, you brought me here!”

“I didn't. Credence, I swear to you!” Newt said urgently, struggling to sit up. “I know what it's like, to feel betrayed by someone you thought you could trust. Listen to me, please. I'm trying to help yo-”

“Liaaaaar,” he moaned, the word fading away as his head converted to energy. Tina cringed, scrambling toward him.

“Enough.”

They all turned, and Tina shrunk down instinctively, her body draped over Newt's as she took in the figure standing in the doorway. Gellert Grindelwald was bearing down on them, nearly a dozen wizards crowded behind in his wake.

“Enough,” he repeated, his eyes sweeping the landing. Tina swallowed, clutching her wand, ready to die fighting. “...I think we _all_ know a bit about betrayal,” Grindelwald hissed, his eyes flickering for a moment over Dumbledore. “But I'm afraid I must call this meeting short. Sentimental reminisces were never exactly my strong point.”

“ _OBTERO!”_ Theseus had darted forward, his wand outstretched as his spell burst forth like a cannon. Grindelwald flicked his wand almost effortlessly; the curse shattered, sparks raining to the ground like the remnants of fireworks. He flicked his wand again, and this time a bolt of lightning emerged, tearing through the room toward its target. Theseus managed to block it with a heave; Tina watched as the spell ricocheted, diverting at an angle and slamming Jacob backwards against the wall.

For a moment, the room went silent. Everything seemed to have slowed down, and it was in a daze that Tina stepped through the ether. She heard her sister's scream as if it was coming from a distant room; the sound sliced through her skin, digging deep to the bone.

Her hand had flown to her mouth, muffling her gasp of horror. Tina stared at the motionless figure, her legs threatening to give way from beneath her. Queenie was already running forward, Grindelwald ignoring her in favor of his prey. Tina held her breath as Queenie crouched over her fiance, her bright eyes swimming in fat, hot tears as she squeezed his wrist. A sigh of relief wracked through her, and Tina almost started crying herself.

“ _...Credence._ Credence, Credence, Credence. _”_ Grindelwald tsked, shaking his head. Tina turned her head, seeing Grindelwald move forward, his gaze on the young man shaking in the center of the room. Credence moaned, the sound eerily reminiscent of Dumbledore's a few minutes before. He was changing quickly, his lanky form dissolving to fog before their eyes. Grindelwaldsurveyed him with a mesmerized smirk.

“You break my heart,” he said softly. “I thought we had an understanding, a _connection_ between us-”

The Obscurus exploded forward. Tina covered her face, watching between her fingers as a defensive bubble sprang up, shielding Grindelwald from the attack. A silent scream had escaped her.

Credence struck again, and this time he seemed to flatten against the protective surface, hovering oddly in mid-air as he struggled to recover. Grindelwald gave a cruel bark of laughter, before turning to face her.

Tina straightened, her figure still half-blocking Newt from harm's way, though she stood tall as she faced her opponent. Grindelwald's mouth barely moved as he issued the command, his eyes flashing. “Kill them.”

His companions moved forward, and suddenly the room was full of lights and crashes as the battle broke out. A burning smell reached Tina's nostrils, and it was all she could do not to gag on the smoke. Someone's robes had caught fire; she heard screaming, but had no time to look to see whose side it was from. She could barely see who she was attacking, simply casting Stunning spells at any gold robes she could see. Theseus was fighting two at once, his wand slashing like a sword through the smoke-filled air. Newt had climbed to his feet, battling fiercely with a man built like an ox, as Queenie traded blows with the same pointy-faced, dark-haired wizard they'd fought off at their arrival. Tina saw a blonde wizard raise his wand and ducked, feeling something swoop over her hair.

Newt turned, seeing Tina only narrowly avoid the jet of green light. Something inside him exploded, and suddenly he was shooting off toward her attacker, wand forgotten as he slammed into the man's shoulder. They rolled, fists flying, and Tina held back a groan as she aimed her wand, afraid to strike in case she were to accidentally hit Newt. Queenie was crouched on the floor, blood soaking her head, and the monkey-faced wizard she'd been fighting moved forward, pointing his wand at them.

“ _Not the skinny one!_ He is mine!” Grindelwald screamed, and Tina understood; he still needed Newt, would go to any lengths to ensure he was preserved alive. The dark-haired wizard hissed his disapproval, turning his wand on her instead, only to receive a Stunner to the face for his trouble. She heard a crash from her left, and spun to see what had happened.

The second of Theseus's attackers had fallen to the floor, bleeding from the ears. Tina watched as the young Auror turned, a look of righteous determination flashing across his features. He moved swiftly through the throng, blasting Reinigers out of his path, and Tina, realizing what he was about to do, ran forward to help.

Grindelwald laughed at seeing their approach, his discoloured eyes gleaming with excitement. His smile slipped as Theseus sent a wave of gold flame flying toward him, his face breaking into a snarl as he conjured a protective shield. It vanished again with moments, freeing him up to attack again, and Tina used the opportunity to strike. Grindelwald blocked her jinx with a leer. He turned, his eyes narrowing as he focused his attention on her, and barely avoided Theseus's second blast. Tina raised her wand again.

Their curses collided in mid-air, exploding in a shower of sparks. Theseus and Tina were advancing, but Grindelwald matched them blow for blow, his excitement mounting with every inch of ground they gained.

She could see Credence out of the corner of her eye, still hovering above them, coiling and uncoiling anxiously at the chaos below. Tina clenched her jaw, flame erupting from her wand, only to be swiped away by Grindelwald as easily as if it'd been a fly. The next curse missed her by inches as she spun out of the way.

She saw Grindelwald raise his wand through half-lidded eyes, still struggling to regain her foothold. Her world shook as a terrible scream filled the air, and then she was watching, breathless, as Theseus slumped to the floor.

Tina shrieked as the ground suddenly moved closer; she'd tripped over one of the fallen fighters. Her hands were bloody as she pushed herself up, cuts and scrapes marking her skin from where she'd skidded across the stone floor. She looked up, her eyes meeting Grindelwald's.

They were outnumbered, two of their best fighters compromised. Dumbledore was weeping quietly in a corner, staring blankly at the wall. Theseus still hadn't moved. She couldn't properly see his face from her position, and she was half-afraid of what she might see if she shifted for a better view. Newt and Queenie were fighting for their lives around them, both of them dueling two at once.

Tina stifled a sob, her shoulders falling. She was exhausted; it had been days since she'd had a proper night's rest, and she'd been battling for hours. She watched in a daze as Grindelwald lifted his wand, the corners of his lips turning up. She raised her wand on pure instinct, summoning the last of her strength, just as a strange sound reached her ears.

A song had filled the landing; it swelled like a balloon, growing and growing until they had all been encapsulated in its cocoon.

Tina paused, feeling the chords wash over her like cool water on a summer's day, or a mug of cocoa on a blistering winter night, warming her from within. It told a story of laughing children and prairie meadows, of rib-crushing hugs and mothers who lived into old age. There was something intensely haunting about it; it seemed to seep into her skin, filling her with a sense of hope and courage far beyond anything she could remember.

Tina looked up, blinking into the shadows.

Fawkes had appeared mere inches from where Credence swarmed, his beak open in a piercing cry. Tina's wand tightened in her hand.

“Enough.”

Tina felt a chill emanate from the source of the sound; she turned her head, the hairs on her arms standing on end.

“That's _enough_ , Gellert.”

Albus Dumbledore stood, his long auburn hair sweeping behind him as he climbed to his feet. His blue eyes darkened, narrowing in as he turned to face the golden-robed wizards wreaking mayhem across the landing. His anger was terrible; Tina stumbled backward, a flicker of fear cutting through her in spite of the phoenix's song.

“What-?”

Tina turned at the voice, Dumbledore's blazing power temporarily forgotten. Grindelwald was staring upward, not at his attacker or the airborne phoenix, but at the strange black cloud that still writhed above their heads.

Tina watched, curious, as Credence seemed to condense, growing stronger, his movements suddenly becoming more purposeful. A terrifying scream rang out as the Obscurus dived; Grindelwald had tried to summon his protective forcefield again, but it seemed Fawkes's song had galvanized Credence as much as the others. He rammed against the bubble - once, twice, three times, and Tina gazed open-mouthed as cracks began to appear. Grindelwald hissed, rearing up to attack.

“NO!”

The shriek had escaped her without her knowledge; she watched in horror as the Obscurus slowed, gradually returning to a Credence-shaped cloud, and a moment later he was standing before them again. A triumphant smile broke over Grindelwald's face, his wand still held high. Credence glared at him, his dark eyes glittering with vengeance. His voice came out as little more than a growl.

“ _I'm not going to let you hurt anybody.”_

Grindelwald faltered, his eyebrows narrowing. “Is that so?” he murmured, looking fascinated.

Credence screamed, throwing his head back as he dematerialized once more, the black cloud covering the ceiling before condensing into a tight, targeted ball. He threw himself against Grindelwald's shield bubble, and this time cracks spread across the surface like lightening, stretching all the way to the floor.

Tina moved backward, raising her wand without a clue as to what spell she might perform. All she knew was that she had to stop him, somehow; he wasn't strong enough, already Credence had retreated again, still in his Obscurus form, but flailing weakly. A sudden crash made her turn, glancing around in alarm.

Dumbledore was standing in the center of the landing, seven men tied together with golden ropes as three more scattered for the stairs. Grindelwald bellowed with rage.

Tina's stomach turned over as she watched Dumbledore throw out his arm, knocking Credence's Obscurus out of the way with a flick. Grindelwald edged forward, his wand aimed menacingly as he and Dumbledore began to circle each other.

Tina stared for a second, mesmerized, then returned to her senses with a start. She turned back to her sister and Jacob, sizing them up, and a wave of remorse washed over her. Jacob was still lying unconscious on the ground, his mouth slightly open. Queenie was bent over him, stroking his forehead. A deep patch of blood stained her hair.

Tina dropped to the floor, crawling over to face them as she did her best to ignore the sounds of explosions around her. She bit her lip, whispering urgently: “Queenie.”

Her sister looked up, tears filling her eyes. Tina squeezed her hand, her expression solemn. _“_ Take Jacob back, I'll meet you in a minute,” she promised. Queenie shook her head, looking frantic. “I ain't leavin' you, Teen-”

“You have to,” Tina pressed, climbing to her feet. “Trust me.”

Queenie stared at her as Tina ran forward, locking eyes with a skinny Reiniger who had managed to escape Dumbledore's charm.

The skinny wizard attacked; Tina barely managed to dodge his curse before striking back, and he slammed against the wall, his robes aflame. She spun on her heel, spotting someone raise their wand out of the corner of her eye. Tina dived with the instincts of an Auror whose talents had been honed by nearly a decade in the field. Something sharp grazed against her cheek.

Tina grimaced, mopping away a dribble of blood. She was scarcely aware of sinking to the floor, fatigue washing over her. Her eyes fluttered closed.

Except...they _couldn't_ be closed. On the contrary, something bright was filling her vision, almost blinding her. Tina hesitated, opening her eyes.

There was a strange glow spreading from somewhere on her right; Tina turned, squinting hastily through the smoke that had filled the landing. Something dark was growing in size, its tendrils dancing like fingers over a piano. Just below, Newt had managed to throw off his attackers; he was now staring, not at the two wizards trading blows with such gusto a few yards away, but rather at the wisps of black fog, coiling across the ceiling. He was directing something silvery with his wand, murmuring under his breath. Tina blinked, studying the strange substance. Her brain itched to solve the mystery of its origins. The inklings of a patronus, maybe?

Newt flicked his wand, his muttering becoming more rapid. Tina's eyes widened, watching in awe as a silvery bubble erupted from the misty fibers. It spiraled through the air, twisting and mutating, finally surrounding Credence's Obscurus and locking him in.

The floor gave a terrible lurch. Tina crawled up onto her knees, her stomach sinking as she looked around.

Dumbledore and Grindelwald's battle had escalated. They were still circling each other, their eyes locked in a death grip as they fired off spells she'd never seen before, seemingly oblivious to the room shaking all around them.

Tina watched in amazement as an an angry-looking smoke dragon reared up onto its back haunches, its nebulous body glittering with every sway. Dumbledore's wand slashed in response, shooting back a spell that gave off a boom like thunder.

Tina stared, looking on in open-mouthed disbelief as the magicked dragon gave a furious snap of its jaws, only to shatter into dust a moment later.

The floor shuddered again, this time causing the ceiling to move along with it. Tina groaned, climbing to her feet. Something was happening in the far entrance to the room. Scuffling sounds were coming from the corridor, growing in intensity as the source moved closer. Tina turned, dread rising in her throat. Another wave of fighters had come darting into the room, their faces shining at the prospect of battle.

Tina straightened her shoulders, backing away. A low cry gave her the strength to raise her wand; _Fawkes had returned._

Tina swallowed, meeting the eyes of her nearest attacker. There were three of them, surrounding her in a group.

“ _Crucio!”_

Tina dodged with a shriek, hearing the curse hit one of the staircases behind her. It exploded with a noise like a gunshot, bits of stone flying every which way. She ducked low, watching the second of them get smacked in the face with the rubble and fall to the ground. A Stunner took care of the first, and Tina turned to the third, still crouching.

“ _Lamber-”_

“ _INCARCEROUS!”_

He fell in a heap, covered in ropes, and Tina turned, army crawling to where Theseus laid several feet away, anxious to examine him. Newt was already there, white-faced as he kneeled beside him. Tina stared at him, terrified.

“Is he-”

“He'll be alright,” Newt muttered. “Fawkes can heal him-”

“You need to get him out of here,” she whispered, turning and casting a stunning spell at the Reiniger who had been trying to sneak up behind her, already recovered from the blow to his skull.

Newt looked up at her, startled. “What?”

“Go!” she grunted.

Four more of Grindelwald's followers had darted out of one of the branching corridors; Tina threw herself onto her stomach to avoid the onslaught of spells, looking up in time to see a rainbow of multi-colored sparks explode over her head. She grimaced, rolling onto her back to blast a curse at her nearest attacker.

“Tina, I can't-”

Tina scrambled to her knees, meeting Newt's eyes for a moment before returning to the action.

“ _GO!”_ she hissed, shooting curses over her shoulder.

Newt pursed his lips, nodding determinedly, and she felt something _whoosh_ as Fawkes swooped over her. She turned, brandishing her wand as the three remaining Reinigers surrounded her. One of them cackled, his beady black eyes narrowing.

“Got you cornered now, pretty.”

Tina smirked darkly, her eyes flashing for a moment as her wand nearly exploded with power. The three men flew backward, one of them falling down the stairs; she could hear him bouncing off the stone for several levels. One of her previous victims were stirring in the corner, and she recognized the blonde wizard she'd dueled earlier in the evening, blinking himself awake from a few feet away. The other two men had recovered from their injuries, the tallest of them snarling as he raised his wand.

“ _AVADA KED-”_

“ _STUPEFY!”_

Newt had run forward from nowhere, knocking her aside as he shot a stunning spell at the man moving toward her. He blasted backward, slamming against the wall from the force of the spell. Tina barely noticed.

“You were supposed to get out of here!” she yelled, glaring at him as she flung a curse at the blonde wizard climbing to his feet.

“Well, I couldn't just _leave_ you here,” he shouted, looking bewildered. “I brought Theseus home, Queenie will tend to him.”

“You idiot,” she groaned, yanking him out of the way. A jet of red sparks soared past where he'd been standing an instant before, ricocheting off the wall behind them and disintegrating. There were still two Reinigers inching toward them; Newt and Tina exchanged a glance, each taking one for themselves, the pair walking in unison as they took them down.

“...Well that wasn't so bad,” Newt muttered, panting as he bent over his knees. Behind him, the sounds of Grindelwald and Dumbledore's duel had become louder.

“We need to get out of here,” Tina commanded, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. “They're just gonna keep _coming!”_ she gasped, looking around in despair.

Newt nodded, rubbing his face.

True to her word, another six or seven Reinigers were pouring into the landing, and she could hear footsteps pounding in the hallway, as what sounded like a dozen more people raced toward them. Tina groaned, turning toward them.

In front of her, Fawkes had reared up, taking out three with a burst of flame and causing another to run back. She ran forward, engaging with two of them as Fawkes took off behind her, Newt darting off in the opposite direction as a pig-faced wizard with wiry hair started blasting off spells in a long stream. They exploded like rockets, Newt dodging them as he ran. Tina was battling two-on-one, a tiny witch with yellow teeth jabbing her wand like a fencer as her companion threw jinx after jinx at her.

“ _CURTOGULA_ _!”_

The second Reiniger had struck, an unpleasant smile lighting up his face. Tina ducked, glaring at him as he blocked her counter-curse. He was an older man, his salt-and-pepper hair sleeked down over his high forehead. He slashed his wand again, just as Tina dodged the homely little witch's attack. She managed to block his spell on pure reflex, finally landing a jinx to take him down before turning her focus back on the opponent who was left. The older witch cackled, jabbing and twisting as she released a string of curses from her short stubby wand.

Grindelwald and Dumbledore's battle was growing more violent; the castle itself trembled with the force of their blows. The witch she'd been dueling fell with a crash as a piece of stone dislodged from the ceiling; Tina gazed at her for a split-second, a thought forming in her exhausted mind. It was time.

The last of Grindelwald's reinforcements were still flooding onto the landing; they were a total of twelve or thirteen in all, all with bloodlust on their faces, and Tina ducked behind a pillar as she tried to evade the onslaught of curses. She saw Newt do the same on the other side of the room. She held her breath, managing to catch his eye, trying desperately to communicate without words. She let her eyes move to where Fawkes was squawking above, shooting flames at a Reiniger who'd had his wand pointed squarely at the magizoologist's face, then looked back to Newt. He followed her gaze, then nodded.

Tina crouched, ignoring the shouts of the wizards running toward her, and pointed her wand at the first pillar she saw.

It exploded with a bang like a cannon, throwing the room into chaos. Tina leapt to her feet, running into the fray. It was madness; half of the ceiling had collapsed, and more pillars were falling like dominos. Some Reinigers were already lying sprawled across the floor, others had ran for the exits, while still more were ducking for cover, attempting to stop the destruction and shouting instructions to each other as Tina took advantage of the distraction.

Debris rained down on her as Tina weaved through the bodies now littering the ground, but she could see Newt up ahead, firing back curses at Grindelwald's forces as Fawkes lifted him above the crowd. He was growing closer, and closer, until...Tina jumped, seizing the ends of Newt's legs. He grabbed her hand, helping her to climb up him, before wrapping his arm around her waist to hold her more securely. They stared at each other, Newt's eyes widening before he averted his gaze.

“Hold tight,” he muttered. Tina nodded. He tightened his grip, holding her securely as Fawkes took off _._ Curses were flying at her from every direction, but Fawkes dove, whisking them out of the line of fire.

Dumbledore and Grindelwald were still locked in wandfire in the center of the room, oblivious to the chaos unwinding around them. She saw Grindelwald mutter something to him under his breath, though it was impossible for her to make out over the sound of cracking stone and the Reinigers' screams of fury.

The hole in the ceiling had expanded with the growing destruction; Tina watched as a piece of rock came crashing down above them, narrowly missing Grindelwald's head, and finally the pair seemed to become aware of the collapsing building. Dumbledore's blue eyes locked on them just as Fawkes swooped. “Grab on!” she hissed. Dumbledore reached up, taking hold of Newt's ankle, and Tina tensed, feeling Fawkes spread his wings in preparation to leave.

“...Wait,” she whispered.

She was fumbling under her robes, fingering the golden locket she'd worn since she was eight. She raised her eyes, staring at the silver orb still hovering in the air a few feet away.

“ _Accio!”_

Credence soared towards her like a bullet, the force of him nearly causing her to lose her grip around Newt's waist; Tina flinched, slamming the locket shut, then braced herself as she felt Fawkes whisk them away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. They did it. Please feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts, and what you hope/expect for the final chapter. <3 And remember, you can get exclusive updates and insights at my tumblr, [amandasarmada](amandasarmada.tumblr.com).


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'd like to apologize for the ridiculous delay in getting this chapter up. I wanted to wait until I had a firm grasp on the sequel, which will be a 12-15 chapter long series on the beginning of Newt and Tina's courtship, titled “Summer's Cauldron”. You can keep an eye out for it here, on my tumblr. (I may at some point post an alternate ending for this story there as well, I haven't decided yet.)
> 
> With that out of the way, I'm so excited to finally share the ending for this story, which has been insistently digging its way through my heart and soul into for the past ~six months, and which I suspect I'll never truly be satisfied with. You guys's encouragement and feedback has been phenomenal, I just want to say thank you so much to everyone who's read, commented, kudosed, and reblogged. I hope you enjoy. <3

It took him a moment to realize he was lying in his bed, another to realize that the aches that had been plaguing him for the past two weeks had seemingly disappeared. Newt bent his wrist experimentally under the covers, surprised to find his welts had vanished overnight.

A noise by his bedside had Newt opening his eyes, blinking as they adjusted to the light. A tall young witch was fettering around his nightstand, her dark hair falling over her face as she stooped to set down a dinner tray.

“Tina?”

She looked up, still clutching a tray of food. “You're awake,” she muttered, smiling.

Newt nodded, doing his best to sit up, and slowly the events of the past 24 hours started coming back to him. They'd arrived back at Newt's flat by the skin of their teeth, Tina sporting a cut along her stomach that had torn right through her clothing. Newt's protective charms and potions had been wearing off, and the atrophy of his muscles had him almost crashing to the ground as they Apparated into his sitting room. There'd been a flurry of activity, with Queenie fussing over him and moving instinctively toward his injuries, needing no questions to know exactly what was bothering him. Dumbledore had stayed just long enough to assure he was alright, then retreated back to Hogsmeade for the night, intending to see to the refugees Fawkes had transported earlier that night.

In the time since, Newt had wandered in and out of consciousness, occasionally mumbling a sentence or two as people nudged glasses of various healing potions in his face. He had a vague recollection of Tina talking to him while he slept, of a warm hand grasping his as sweet dreams filled his vision, but the details were lost on him.

“Is everyone alright?” he murmured. His voice came out hoarse, and Newt reached clumsily for the glass of water that had been left on his nightstand.

“Everyone's fine,” she said soothingly, helping him tip the glass into his mouth. Newt blushed, secretly grateful. “Nothing a few healing charms and Blood-Replenishing Potions couldn't fix.”

“I'm glad to hear that,” Newt mumbled, wiping his lip. He looked up, finally voicing the question he hadn't dared to ask. “And...and my creatures?”

“They're fine, Newt,” she assured him, squeezing his arm.

Newt closed his eyes, feeling a wave of relief. He knew it'd been in Grindelwald's best interests to leave them unharmed, wanting to leave Theseus in a state of confusion and rising alarm rather than revealing the game and tipping off the entire Ministry that they're been an attack, but that hadn't stopped him from fretting endlessly the moment the case had left his sight.

Tina touched his wrist, as if she understood exactly what he was thinking. Newt started, glancing down at where her fingers lingered on his skin. “They've been a little despondent, of course, but I think they'll cheer right up once they see your smiling face again.” Tina gave him a teasing smirk.

Newt nodded, reluctantly accepting the goblet of potion she was offering him. “And - when will that be?” he muttered, with an anxious glance upward.

“You need rest,” Tina said pointedly, leaning forward to adjust his blankets. “I'll take you down soon, the Healer said it would be good for you to get some exercise, but you need time to heal. Give the potions a chance to work.”

“Soon, though?” he pressed, his smile apologetic as Tina rolled her eyes, looking amused. She picked up the bottle, reading the label. “You're going to need an hour, at least,” she said grimly. “Here. Two tablespoons of this one,” she added, pouring out a second potion onto a silver spoon. Newt opened his mouth obediently, making a face as she tipped the medicine into his mouth.

Newt sighed, settling back against his pillows. “Thank you,” he said quietly, closing his eyes. “And...thank you for taking care of them,” he added softly. “I can never thank you enough.”

Tina smiled, brushing his cheek with her thumb. Newt's eyes reopened at her touch, staring into hers with something wavering between wonder and confusion. “Not a problem,” she said gently.

Newt continued to gaze up at her, biting his lip. There was something else he needed to thank her for – although part of him was still cursing her actions, horrified at the idea that she'd put her life on the line for his – but as he stared into her warm brown eyes, no words seemed to come. “Tina-” he managed, clearing his throat.

“Hey.” Tina cut him off, her dark eyes serious. He glanced up at her, seeing her shake her head. “None of that,” she said quietly.

Newt hesitated, unsure how to proceed, but Tina's sober expression faded a moment later as she climbed to her feet. “You know, I had help making you dinner,” she said mildly, with a nod to the tray of food. Newt followed her gaze.

“Queenie and Jacob's doing?” he guessed, picking up on her hint and reluctantly reaching over for the tray. They'd kept things light, for which he was grateful – only soup and sandwiches. He glanced up when Tina spoke again.

“Not exactly.” Tina smiled mysteriously, her voice softening. “Alright, you can climb up now,” she said encouragingly, and Newt raised his eyebrows for a moment, only to feel his face break out in a grin as he watched a silver-haired primate materialize out of thin air, holding up his arms for Tina's assistance.

Newt felt a lump arise in his throat as Tina lowered Dougal carefully onto the bed, then smiled tearfully as the little demiguise curled up against his side. “Hello there,” he said ruefully, chuckling as he wrapped his arm around him. Dougal looked up at him dolefully.

“He's been a big help,” Tina said, glancing at the creature with an amused smile. “I think he knew if he was out of the case, he'd be reunited with you sooner.”

“He's a clever little fellow,” Newt muttered, nodding.

“Stubborn, too. I wonder where he gets that from.”

Newt reddened, shooting Tina a crooked smile.

“... _Speaking_ of stubborn,” Tina added, grinning wryly as she dug around in her breast pocket. Newt's eyes widened slightly as a familiar sound erupted from within. Tina laughed as a small green figure hopped across her hand, darting across her arms and onto her shoulder. There he stood, squealing pitifully at Newt with his arms outstretched, as Newt reached across to reclaim him.

“Hello,” he whispered, his voice breaking as the tiny bowtruckle wrapped one of his fingers in a tight embrace. “I've missed you, too,” he said thickly. Pickett chirped something in response.

“Oh really?” Newt added, glancing up at Tina with a twinkle in his eye. “So you haven't been being a nuisance to Miss Tina here at all, then?”

“ _Never,”_ Tina teased, laughing as Pickett stuck his tongue out at her. Newt beamed.

“...So,” Tina continued, her voice softening a bit as she scrutinized him. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel...fine, actually,” Newt mumbled, throwing her a shy smile before turning his gaze back on the ornery bowtruckle. “Which...I suppose isn't surprising, in a way.” He smiled ruefully. “I expect anything would feel heavenly in comparison to where I've spent the past fortnight.” He shifted, giving a weak chuckle. “Even my rickety old bed seems ten times more comfortable than usual.”

“Oh.” Tina bit back a laugh, looking suddenly sheepish. “I might have something to do with that,” she confessed. Newt glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “Cushioning Charm,” she explained. “I'm sorry, but it was like sleeping on rocks.” Tina chuckled. “How old is that mattress?”

Newt hesitated, not answering for a moment. “...Oh,” Tina said again, in a small voice, realizing the reason for his silence. “Um. I borrowed your bed a couple nights, while we were planning your rescue,” she admitted. Tina hesitated, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “I'm sorry, I hope you don't mind-”

“Of course I don't mind,” Newt said quickly, and on the contrary, he felt an odd sort of warmth at the thought. There was something almost... _enticing_ about the idea of Tina in his bed, whether or not he was there to share it with her. He had to admit part of it was physical – the room did seem quite a bit hotter all of a sudden – but another part of it, a part that made him sweat for an entirely different reason, was simply the utter... _familiarity_ of it. Tina, in his bedroom, curled up under his covers, her hair spread across his pillows...Newt felt a lovely ache deep in his gut.

“Erm.” His face was burning, though he forced an awkward smile. “You're right though I'm afraid, this is the same bed I've had since childhood. I've been meaning to get a new mattress for ages, I just-”

“I still use my old mattress too,” Tina admitted, after a moment. Newt grinned, glancing up at her inquisitively. “I guess it's a comfort thing.”

“Well in that case, my apologies that you found _my_ bed especially _un_ comfortable,” Newt chuckled, smiling at his lap.

Tina shook her head, unable to meet his eyes. “I managed,” she murmured, laughing weakly. He was surprised to see that her cheeks had turned a faint pink.

They fell into silence, Newt gradually returning his attention to his food, to which Pickett had already began helping himself. Tina allowed them a few minutes to eat in peace, settling herself on the edge of the bed as she watched him stroke Dougal's fur, with Pickett chittering away in his ear. Only when the bowtruckle settled down on his shoulder, curling up contently like a tiny cat, did she speak up.

“So. Since I've got you trapped here-”

Newt sputtered into his soup, looking up at her in amusement. Tina flashed him a wry smile.

“I think there might be some things we need to talk about,” she said softly. Newt paused, setting down his bowl.

“...Theseus and I found a newspaper clipping in your case, while we were searching for clues.” Tina's words were calm, though Newt felt his stomach turn over as he took in the steely expression in her eyes. “It described a mysterious black cloud seen floating over France.”

A heavy silence followed these words, and Newt waited tensely for her to explode. It did not come. Newt experienced a split-second of relief, only to realize the alternative to her anger was likely to be so much worse. He couldn't bear to see her hurt, not now, not when he was so desperate for her company and comfort. For a moment Newt said nothing, merely listening to Dougal's even breathing against his chest, his hands burrowing into the creature's warm fur.

“Is he alright?” he asked finally, holding his breath. Tina stared back at him.

“He's _alive,_ ” she said matter-of-factly, and Newt didn't fail to notice the double meaning in her words. He flinched, unable to look at her. Tina was watching him carefully, searching out his face.

“Newt.”

He swallowed, managing a fleeting glance in her direction before looking quickly away. Tina's voice shook when she next spoke.

“Why didn't you _tell_ me?”

Newt exhaled slowly, staring at his lap. “I assumed that would be obvious,” he said quietly.

“Assume it isn't,” she replied dryly. Newt winced.

“I... _assumed_ , _”_ he said hoarsely, clearing his throat. “That it would have put you in an unbearably painful position. If you had known Credence was still alive-”

“I could have _helped_ you-”

“He had a death sentence laid down by your own government,” Newt said softly. “You would have been obligated to report him-”

Tina gaped at him, stung. “You didn't _trust_ me?”

“ _NO,”_ he said thickly. Newt grimaced; he could feel his eyes burning as he struggled to measure his breathing. “I know – I know how much you cared about him. It would have been terrible for you – you already lost your job over him once, I didn't want to -”

“So you made up my mind _for_ me?”

“I thought I was protecting you from having to make an incredibly difficult decision,” Newt whispered, his jaw twitching. “I promise, I never meant to betray you.” He looked up at her, forcing himself to keep looking into those pained dark eyes.“I am truly sorry, Tina.”

Tina was quiet, still staring at him. Newt hesitated before continuing. “I understand why you're angry with me.”

“I don't know if 'angry' is how I'd describe it,” she said softly, shifting on his narrow bed. “I just wish you'd trusted me.”

“I do trust you,” Newt said weakly. “I thought-”

“I get why you did it, Newt,” she cut in. “And I've never doubted that you had your heart in the right place.” Tina swallowed, her voice breaking. “But I don't know what kind of friendship we can have if you're always lying and keeping secrets from me.”

Newt looked up, his heart racing. “Tina –” He wanted to tell her that she was _wrong_ , that she was the most important person in the world to him, that the absolute last thing he wanted was for their friendship to fall apart –

“I know,” Tina said softly, and his breath stopped for a moment as he felt her hand brush his own. It was gone as quickly as it had come. Newt paused, blinking feverishly.

“I knew it was wrong to keep it from you,” he said hoarsely. “I regretted it almost instantly. I just didn't know how to explain, once the lie got started...but that's no excuse,” he added quietly.

Tina's breath shook. “ _Newt..._ ” He glanced up at her, raising an eyebrow tentatively. “You know, you don't have to go through everything _alone_ ,” she said softly, and suddenly her hand was back on his. “If you have a problem, you can come to me. Or Jacob, or Queenie, or Theseus. We care about you.”

Newt fell silent, processing this. He tried twice to summon a reply, only to fail both times, merely taking a breath and feeling it collapse inside his chest.

“...I'll try to remember that,” he said finally, with an awkward smile. He glanced up at her, inhaling sharply for a moment before giving her a crooked grin. “And - thank you, by the way, for not hexing me into oblivion. The possibility did occur to me.”

Tina stared back at him intently, biting her lip to hide her smirk. Newt felt a part of him melt as he noticed the slight twinkle in her eyes.“You're just lucky you're _feeble_ ,” she said slyly.

Newt laughed, sighing as Tina squeezed his wrist. He blinked, trying to pull himself together. “...I truly _am_ sorry, Tina,” Newt muttered, his voice growing serious again. “And I promise you, no matter what - no more secrets.”

“No more secrets,” she said quietly. Tina paused, looking suddenly paler than usual.

Newt frowned, considering her expression. Tina's forehead was wrinkled in a look of unease. He thought he could see something glistening in the corner of her eye.

“What is it?” he asked quietly, watching her carefully.

Tina hesitated, and Newt tensed. “Tina, whatever it is-”

She looked up again, and he was sure of it now – there were tears threatening to spill over beneath her fluttering lashes. Tina took a deep breath, biting her lip. “Newt, there's-” she faltered, wringing her hands. Newt felt something inside him clench. “...There's something I need to tell you,” she said earnestly, touching his arm.

* * *

It was several hours later that another knock came on his door; the sun was just making its ascent across the London skyline through his bedroom window.

Tina had fallen asleep with her head on his bed, slumped over at a rather awkward-looking angle. She stirred as Dumbledore closed the door behind him, blinking herself awake as he came to stand beside them. Dumbledore surveyed her with amusement, watching as she smoothed half-heartedly at her mussed hair. “Good morning,” he said comfortably, his eyes twinkling a bit.

“Good morning,” Tina muttered, her face burning as she stood. She met Newt's gaze for a moment. “I'll just give you two some privacy.”

“If you'd like,” Newt answered mildly, his expression grateful as Tina gave his hand a light squeeze. She smiled uncomfortably at Dumbledore as she passed him, and a moment later Dumbledore was settling himself in her abandoned seat, looking at him expectantly.

“So.”

Newt braced himself. “Professor. I _know_ , I owe you an apology-” Dumbledore held up his hand, and Newt fell silent immediately.

“Please believe me when I tell you I understand completely,” he said softly.

Newt was silent, nodding. He did not ask what Dumbledore meant by this, or how he had become so adept at managing Obscurials, nor why he had reacted the way he had inside Nurmengard. If Dumbledore wished him to know, he would tell him, and until then Newt had no intention of nosing into the business of the man who'd just risked his life to save him.

Dumbledore was gazing serenely out his bedroom window, his expression mild. Newt hesitated for a moment, then added tentatively -

“Tina mentioned that you've been watching over Credence Barebone.”

Dumbledore nodded, sighing heavily. “At least for the time being. Later tonight, once he's well enough to travel again, he's agreed to seek out treatment from a friend of mine inside St. Mungo's. They have a special ward for wizards suffering from emotional problems.”

Newt blinked at him, slightly unsettled. “I'm sorry – and Credence _agreed_ to that?”

Dumbledore surveyed him over his half-moon spectacles. “I won't pretend it didn't take some convincing. Ultimately, I believe it was the prospect of being able to interact with wizards of his own age. I made clear to him that this was his chance – his **only** chance – to truly join our world. I did not lie to him,” he said quietly, stroking his auburn beard. “He has a long and difficult journey ahead of him. But if he works hard, he may, one day, be able to live outside of the restraints he's endured for so long.”

“And he _believed_ you?” Newt asked, unable to mask his uncertainty. “Forgive me, professor. It's just – I tried more than once to compel him to seek help. I believe I was making progress, but-”

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment, considering him. “We spoke at some length,” he said finally, and Newt did not press him.

“What do you think will happen next?” he asked softly, glancing at him from beneath his fringe.

Dumbledore leaned back, sighing. “I suspect there will be a trial, in the coming months, in regard to the Muggle senator. It is possible, if Credence puts forth the effort to learn to control and accept his powers, that his Obscurus will diminish on its own. If he shows remorse for his crimes, and continuing progress, in time he may be able to earn supervised release. And one day, who knows?” Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

“Do you believe he can do it?” Newt asked wistfully, sitting up a little in the bed.

Dumbledore looked pensive. “His case is a tricky one. One of the most pivotal factors, I think, will be his exposure to witches and wizards who have been in similar positions in the past, and been successfully rehabilitated. The more he believes he has a veritable future, the more likely he is to remain patient in the pursuit of his goal.”

“I'll visit him soon,” Newt said quickly, and Dumbledore smiled.

“I think that would be most welcome. He's been asking about you.” He paused. “That reminds me. I think this might belong to you,” Dumbledore said quietly, pulling something out of the folds of his lavender robes.

Newt started, reaching forward to reclaim the familiar-looking wand. A shower of sparks erupted upon making contact with his hand. Newt smiled, holding it tightly for a moment before stowing it safely on his nightstand. “Thank you,” he murmured, stifling a yawn.

Dumbledore looked satisfied. “I believe that was all. I don't wish to keep you, I know you still have a great deal of healing to do.” He stood. “I shall call upon you again tomorrow, if you are agreeable.”

“That would be very welcome,” Newt smiled. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. He was almost at the door when Newt spoke up, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“...Professor?”

Dumbledore turned, raising his eyebrows.

Newt hesitated, eyeing his bedclothes. “Sir...I hope you know I don't wish to pry.”

Dumbledore surveyed him intently. “Curiosity is not a sin, Newt.”

Newt blinked. “Yes, sir. I just -” he looked up at him. “I think it must have been very difficult for you. What you did that night - it nearly destroyed you.” He swallowed, his eyes searching him. “I suppose I'm just trying to understand.”

Dumbledore took a deep breath, looking thoughtful. “...If we live our lives in fear of those things that have hurt us in the past, we've allowed them to destroy us forever,” he said finally. He smiled mildly. “Courage shows itself in many different forms, but I do not believe it is a trait you lack, Mr. Scamander.”

Newt paused, smiling weakly. Dumbledore's gaze was understanding, and maybe even a little amused.

Newt could think of nothing to say to that, so he merely reverted to stating the obvious. “I honestly don't know how to thank you, Professor.”

Dumbledore smiled. “It may not make much sense to you at the moment, Newt, but I would ask you to consider the possibility that you have done as much for me as I have for you.”

* * *

Newt was silent, gazing out over the railing at the city below. He could hear distant sounds from the streets, cars and pedestrians still chugging along despite the lateness of the hour. Pickett peeked curiously out of his pocket, taking one look at the drop and scrambling back into the safety of his coat.

Things had wrapped up rather nicely over the past few days; Newt could now walk short distances without assistance - the effects of the long-term exposure to the pogrebin were finally beginning to wear off - and his colouring was slowly but surely returning to normal. He'd managed to visit Credence only that morning, with Tina by his side. The young wizard was adjusting gradually to his new circumstances, but he seemed to be doing at least as well as could be expected.

Afterward, they had retreated back to his case, where he had spent the afternoon reacquainting himself with his creatures and telling Tina more about some of his newest additions. She had laughed at the clabberts and marvelled over the winged Granian horse, taking a ride on both the stallion and his prickly new hippogriff before the day was done.

That evening, they'd shared dinner with Jacob and Queenie, who they'd found positively giddy from their afternoon in Paris. Queenie had tried her hand making _soupe_ _à_ _l'oignon_ and soufflés, with Jacob finishing off the meal with a platter of chocolate éclairs for dessert, and Newt had found his small flat filled with more warmth and laughter than it'd seen since he'd moved in.

And now night had fallen, the stars glittering down upon the French city. Newt was standing on the first floor of one of Paris's most famous landmarks, the warm spring air tickling his skin. It would have been pleasant, if not for what he was here to do.

A gentle _crack_ sprang suddenly out of the darkness, interrupting his reverie. Newt turned, watching as Leta made her way across the platform.

He'd forgotten how small she was. Even in her little heeled boots, she scarcely managed to come up to his shoulders. Her long hair was pulled back, as she used to wear it in school, with tiny curls that cascaded down her back like rippling waves. Her dark robes were hemmed with silver accents; they seemed to sparkle whenever she moved.

“Hello,” Leta said softly. She sighed shakily, a pleased smile lighting up her face.

Newt sighed, surveying her from under his messy fringe. “Hello.”

He fell silent, considering her. It'd been years since he'd allowed himself to really look at her; he was surprised to find just how much the wrenching pain in his gut had actually dimmed. Gazing at her, he was hit with little more than a dull sadness. Newt blinked, glancing away.

“It's a beautiful night,” she offered, her expression wistful. Newt nodded, barely meeting her gaze.

Leta giggled, her smile widening. “Do you remember the time old Ceres caught us sneaking out of the Forest at one o'clock in the morning?” She shook her head, looking amused. “Everyone assumed we'd been necking, but you just wanted to watch the knarl pups being born.”

“I remember,” he said quietly.

Leta paused, the moonlight reflecting off her dark eyes. “...I'm really glad you asked me here,” she whispered, after a stifling silence.

Newt nodded, pressing his lips together. “I wanted to thank you,” he began, his forehead creasing almost painfully as he stared at the ground. He forced himself to glance back up at her. “Tina told me what you did.”

“She told you?” Leta was staring at him curiously.

Newt nodded, averting his gaze again as he turned back to look out over the city. “She thought I should check in on you,” he continued. “Let you know I was alright in person. She thought you deserved proper recognition, for - everything you did.”

“Did she,” Leta murmured, hugging her arms. She'd come to stand beside him, staring out across the starry sky. Her expression was unreadable. Newt sighed, his voice low.

“I know it wasn't easy for you, Leta, defying your father-”

Leta tensed beside him, and her tinkling laugh held little mirth in it. “I stopped being afraid of my father a long time ago, Newt.”

Newt glanced at her, his jaw twitching. “...Even so,” he said quietly, ducking his head again. “I know you wouldn't have put yourself in danger for just anyone.”

“Was that a compliment in there somewhere?” she teased, chuckling as she tossed him a grin.

“Take it however you like,” Newt sighed, gazing out at the skyline.

Leta watched him for a moment, her smile fading as he failed to look at her. “Newt?”

He glanced at her, raising his eyebrows. Leta took a deep breath, her features contorting in concern. “...I really _am_ sorry,” she whispered.

Newt actually smiled a little. He shook his head, glancing away. “If it happened all over again, you would do the same.”

She didn't bother to deny it. “It doesn't mean I'm not sorry.”

Newt exhaled, hanging his head. She'd always been like this, contrarian. It used to amuse him. Now, he just felt tired.

Leta was still watching him, her curls blowing gently behind her. “Newt.”

He looked at her wearily. Leta's expression had turned earnest. “Do you think we might ever be friends again?”

“...Newt?” she repeated, when he failed to reply. Her hand had come to rest on his arm.

Newt closed his eyes for a moment, then turned to face the railing again, staring down at the streets below. His jaw had clenched, and his lips burned from pressing them so closely together. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

Leta's eyes had begun to glisten. “But I _don't,”_ she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don't understand why you can't just-”

Newt stiffened, sighing as moved out of her grasp. “Leta,” he said finally, exhaling slowly. He cleared his throat, his eyes on the ground. “I hope you know that I don't harbour any particular ill will towards you,” he said quietly. “And I am truly grateful for the role you played in my rescue.” Leta smiled at him through her tears, and for a brief second she looked exactly like the 15-year-old girl who had bragged to him about expecting to get Os in all her OWLs. Newt grimaced. He had to force himself not to look away. “...But no, Leta. I don't think we will ever be close again like we were.”

Leta blanched, staring at him. “Because of Tina?”

Newt smiled involuntarily, hastily averting his gaze. “Because of you,” he said evenly. “Because of the sort of person you are.” Newt paused, shifting his weight. “...I meant what I said, Leta, that night at the bar. I don't think I can be friends with you.”

Leta stepped back; she looked as if she'd been slapped. Newt stiffened as he watched her dusky cheeks take on a familiar scarlet tinge. He braced himself, knowing what was coming, and Leta didn't disappoint. Her tears ran hot and fast down her crumpled face, and he knew he needed to head her off quickly. “Leta.” Newt stared at her, truly looking into her eyes for the first time that night. “I'm sorry I can't give you the answer that you want,” he said quietly. “I certainly don't get any enjoyment out of seeing you suffer.”

“Why did you come then?” Leta asked shakily. “If I'm such a monster, why did you want to see me?”

Newt was silent. Leta stilled, a lump appearing in her throat. He saw her lip begin to quiver again, though Leta's chin was steady as she faced him. “...Newt, did Tina _ask_ you to come talk to me?”

Newt glanced at her, taking a moment to answer. “Of course not,” he said kindly, looking away again.

Leta was trembling, though from grief or anger he couldn't quite tell. Newt watched uncomfortably as she wiped her eyes, swallowing thickly. She met his gaze, taking a shuddering sort of breath.

“But I guess we're even now,” she said softly, after a long moment. She was staring straight at him, and her tears seemed to have finally stemmed in their tide. Leta took a deep breath, her dark eyes piercing into him. “We've evened the score, we're square. Aren't we?”

Newt was silent, gazing at the ground. “I suppose we are,” he said finally.

Leta nodded slightly, her eyebrows knitting together. She licked her lips, looking thoughtful. “...I just want you to know,” she said quietly. “I really am sorry about what happened. I never meant to hurt you, Newt.” She looked up at him, her shoulders shaking almost as badly as her voice was. “And I will always be grateful for what you did for me.”

Newt blinked. He looked up just as she began to turn away, and she was already halfway across the platform before he found his voice.

“Leta?”

She turned back, their eyes meeting for a moment. Newt sighed, his voice hoarse. “...Thank you.”

* * *

Tina was sitting exactly where Newt had left her roughly half an hour before, her dark hair falling across her face as she tried to concentrate on the book she'd brought. The room was utterly silent around her, the No-Maj restaurant she'd chosen to wait in long abandoned for the night. She looked up when she heard him enter, climbing to her feet without a word.

Newt took her hand as he led her back onto the veranda, neither of them speaking for a few minutes as their footsteps echoed across the glass floor.

“I want to thank you for waiting,” he said finally, his voice quiet. “And for coming at all. I truly appreciate it, Tina.”

She squeezed his hand, saying nothing. Her heart seemed to be stuck in her throat somewhere. She found she couldn't bring herself to look at him, not quite trusting that she'd be able to hold back the tears already threatening to break free. She could feel Newt's eyes on her, his gaze lingering far longer than she was accustomed from the man whose eyes were predominantly aimed at the ground. His hand was still clutching hers, his fingers linked securely in her own. She wondered suddenly if he could tell how clammy she was.

“Tina-”

Tina turned, steeling herself before looking up into his face. Newt was studying her, as she'd suspected, his green eyes flickering carefully over her face. She forced her features into what she hoped was an expression of polite interest.

Newt bit his lip. “Would you like to go to the top?” he asked curiously.

Tina hesitated, her eyes widening. She was hardly afraid of heights, of course, but she couldn't help the weak laugh that escaped her as she craned her neck and gazed upward. “ _All_ the way to the top?”

Newt smiled, pulling her closer. “Hold on tight,” he murmured. Tina held her breath, their eyes meeting as Newt wrapped his arms around her. “...And close your eyes.”

Tina nodded slightly, her eyes fluttering closed, and Newt's grip tightened as she felt the familiar squeeze out of existence. A moment later they were standing hundreds of feet above. Tina looked around, the sudden breeze hitting her sharply.

Newt dropped his arms. “Come on,” he whispered, giving her a pained smile before looking away. Tina followed as Newt led her to the edge, stopping only when they reached the railing. She followed his gaze, staring out over the city. Tina gasped.

The view was spectacular; she could see the whole of Paris spread out below, and above, the stars were scattered across the velvety sky, opening up into the heavens. Newt stood by himself a few feet away, looking deep in thought as he gazed out over the landscape. Tina shivered; the air was cooler up here. Newt glanced at her.

“Are you cold?”

“Oh – I'm fine.” She didn't want to leave, already digging for her wand in case she decided to conjure a sweater. “It's pretty up here.”

Newt smiled, and a moment later she had found herself with Newt's favored blue coat draped carefully around her shoulders. Tina blushed, the corners of her lips twitching as she felt curiously at the sleeves. It felt airier than it ought to, and she wondered if it wasn't charmed to suit the temperature of the surroundings.

“Better?” Newt asked tentatively, his eyes flickering over her features.

“It's perfect, thank you.” She wished she could stop smiling. She felt like a fool, and she warned herself, not for the first time that night, that she needed to brace herself. She was Newt's friend, and he might need her right now, and she needed to be prepared for the very real possibility that he was on the verge of sharing feelings with her that she didn't particularly want to hear.

Tina started, feeling Newt's fingers suddenly stroking her cheek.

“Eyelash,” he said quietly. He held it out for her to see. “...Make a wish.”

Tina stared at it for a moment, then closed her eyes, blowing softly.

Newt was still watching her when she reopened her eyes. He smiled tentatively, dropping his hand, then turned away, looking back out over the Paris skyline.

She gave him a few minutes to himself, walking a few yards until she found a good spot to herself to gaze out over the view. The city was breathtaking, even in darkness; spots of light arose out of the black, marking homes or businesses. Tina fell silent, allowing her mind to wander.

She'd made a vow to herself that morning, while lying in bed staring up at the ceiling. It had come after hours of dreams she had barely understood, dreams in which her mother had whispered to her in a language she didn't understand, and Tina had awoken feeling more confused than ever. She'd laid there for hours, thinking deeply to herself as the sun rose outside her window - until, finally, clarity had dawned on her.

She'd thought she'd known what she wanted – she'd certainly thought about it enough, about what his lips would feel like locked in hers, about the innocence of his eyes and the mischievousness of his smirk and the way he could make her feel warmed from the inside, but as she lay there picturing his lopsided smile Tina suddenly realized her desires went deeper than that. Something else had to come first, however much pain the consequences might bring her.

And therein lay the sacrifice. She would be... _exactly_ what Newt needed of her – nothing more, nothing less. It was the only way she would be able to live with herself. If Newt wanted her help to work through his feelings for someone else, well, then she would encourage and advise him as best she could. She would not interfere; she refused to sabotage his happiness.

“Tina? Are you alright?”

Tina blinked, staring back at him across the darkness. Newt was gazing at her in some concern, looking at her over his shoulder.

“Of course.” Tina's voice sounded foreign to her own ears. She forced a smile, pushing her hair behind her ear. “...Are - _you_ alright?” she asked softly, inching toward him.

Newt sighed, dropping his head. “Yes,” he said heavily, leaning over the railing for a moment before straightening. He glanced at her, a tiny smile making its way over his face. “In fact,” he said slowly, looking pensive. “I believe I may have finally gotten some closure with my old friend.”

Tina's breath had caught in her throat, nearly strangling her. Her vision blurred as she watched him stare out over the city. “...Closure,” she confirmed, already overanalyzing each syllable. Newt turned around, stepping away from the edge.

“Of a sort. Or at least, as much closure as I care to attempt.” He smiled uncomfortably, his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

Tina paused, deliberating. “Newt...” She hesitated, as he glanced up at her curiously. “You know if you ever want to – _talk_ about it -”

“I know,” he said quickly, flashing her a smile. Tina smiled back, moving closer to touch his arm. “And...I very much appreciate that,” he added gently.

Newt fell silent, gazing out beyond the tower again. Tina had just decided that he was unprepared to share anymore just now, when she was startled by his voice, breaking through the quiet night.

“...Leta's mother died when she was seven,” Newt began, his voice low. Tina turned, her breath catching. “Her father was abusive,” he added, pursing his lips. “Emotionally, and on more than one occasion, I suspect, physically.”

Tina simply gazed at him, her heart dropping. Newt rubbed his face. “She didn't like to talk about it,” he continued, shaking his head. “But one night in the dead of summer, about halfway between my second and third year, I received a letter.” Newt stopped, exhaling slowly. “He'd beaten her, for cheeking him at a cocktail party.”

“Oh, Newt.” Tina's eyes welled up, her hand seeking out his arm again. Newt smiled gratefully.

“One of her sisters had managed to stem the bleeding,” he said quietly. “But none of them were particularly close to her, nor were they particularly _sympathetic_ , and she had...no one to talk to.” Newt's voice broke. Tina stared at him, rubbing his shoulder soothingly.

“She _begged_ me not to tell anyone,” he continued. “She'd charmed the parchment to catch fire once it'd been read, so I had no evidence to show, and I knew she would deny it if I pressed the issue. I was terrified...worrying endlessly that if I spoke up, doing so would only put her in more danger.” Newt paused, playing with his wristcuffs. “It is one of the greatest regrets of my life that I did nothing to help her.”

Tina touched his hand, her eyes sympathetic. “But you did,” she said quietly, stroking his skin. “You were there for her when no one else was, you were probably the only person she trusted...You were a child,” she added gently, lacing their fingers together. Newt stared down at them, ducking his head.

“Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely. He was quiet for a moment, collecting himself, before taking another deep breath.

“...Shortly before she turned 16, Leta did something that was both...deeply stupid, and incredibly selfish. Another student was almost killed. He suffered permanent injuries. We were – both, very nearly expelled.” Newt glanced up at her, steadying his breathing. “...I accepted responsibility,” he confessed, blinking very quickly. “I knew how her father would react to such a scandal, and I couldn't-”

Tina sighed, pulling him closer into a loose hug. Newt swallowed, meeting her eyes for a moment as he returned her embrace. She touched his cheek, one arm still draped around his middle. Newt shivered, feeling her forehead press against his. Tina's whisper was warm on his face.

“...I adore you, you know.”

Newt looked up, hardly daring to believe the words. He knew he was blushing, but there seemed to be very little he could do about it. “I assure you, the feeling is mutual,” he chuckled, blinking hastily.

Tina shook her head, burying her face in his shoulder. “You are so much braver than I am.”

Newt snorted, though he knew better than to argue with her. Tina had settled into his arms, her body warm against his.

“You mustn't get the wrong idea,” he said quietly, biting his lip. “There was – absolutely no excuse for what she did. It was cruel, and malicious.”

Tina hummed softly, tightening her grip around him for a moment in a quick squeeze. Newt sighed.

“Did she ever-?” Tina paused, unsure how far she should press him.

“Say she was sorry?” Newt guessed, daring to stroke her back. She shivered against him. Newt shook his head, holding her closer. “She's apologized five or six times over the years for what all her actions cost me – rather lightly, to be frank, but sincere enough in her own way.” He sighed, looking weary.

“It must have been so hard for you,” Tina said tentatively, pulling away to look into his eyes. Newt blinked back at her, swallowing as she stroked his jaw.

“Well...it certainly wasn't easy,” he admitted, glancing at the ground. “But I've managed to come to peace with my censure; it was my decision, and it was mine to bear. And -” he paused, swallowing. “To be fair, I'd always known Leta was capable of great selfishness – I even managed at one point to trick myself into finding it charming...a sign of her _resilience_ , if you will.” Newt chuckled bitterly. Tina frowned, her fingers brushing against his cheek. Newt closed his eyes for a moment.

“If I'm being honest,” he said quietly. “What bothered me far more than Leta's willingness to let me take the fall, and what I could never _quite_ make myself forget, was how _easily_ she'd exploited an innocent creature in the first place...and the fact that she showed shockingly little remorse after the fact,” he said hoarsely. “There were - many factors which contributed to the dissolution of our friendship, but I suspect it was that most of all.” Newt paused, shivering in the chilly night air. “It took me a very long time to accept the reality of what had happened,” he said finally, his voice heavy. “I wanted so much to believe she was simply in shock, that she'd underestimated the danger involved and couldn't bare to let herself feel the full brunt of her guilt. I tried desperately to hold on to that image of who I thought she'd been.” Newt looked up at her, his gaze sober. “I was deluding myself.”

Tina stared at him, her heart breaking at the look of misery that had settled upon Newt's features.

“...So now you know,” he murmured, sighing.

“I'm sorry,” she said quietly. Newt looked up, seeing the earnestness in Tina's big brown eyes, and felt his heart clench.

Her arms were still around him, her forehead hot against his. Her breath brushed against his skin.

It took so little effort to tilt his head, his lips meeting her cheek. Newt sighed, almost melting at the warmth beneath his mouth. He'd fantasized about doing this, about finding out just how well his lips could fit in the dip of her dimples, but the reality was heavenly. Tina softened in his arms, a sweet sigh escaping her throat, and he couldn't bear to pull away.

“I'm glad you told me,” she said finally, her hand rubbing against his back.

“Yes, well. The least I could do, after you saved my life and all,” he joked, managing a crooked smile, though she couldn't see. Tina grinned back, her chin resting on his shoulder.

“Tina -” he said tentatively, his voice breaking.

“Yes?”

“You know – the second edition of my book is being released here next week.” He blushed. “My...mother's throwing a party.”

Tina laughed _,_ a little caught off-guard by the abrupt change in subject, but willing to roll with it. “That sounds nice.”

Newt looked up at her, pummeling forward before he could lose his nerve. “Would you care to stay a few extra days, and accompany me?”

She stared at him, a breathless smile stealing across her face.

“I think I could get the time off work,” she agreed. “It seems our respective governments feel somewhat indebted to us,” she joked. Newt chuckled.

“Yes, I got that impression too.” He paused, deliberating whether or not he wanted to say something or not. “I'm – hoping I might get to visit you again, sometime before the end of the year,” he admitted.

Tina's face lit up. “Really?”

“I'm not sure just when yet, but I certainly hope to. It seems to be hard to stay away.” Newt's face burned, and he watched her carefully for a reaction. Tina's broad smile had his stomach shooting off fireworks.

“Perhaps –” Newt hesitated, a silly grin threatening to overtake his face. He looked up at her. “Perhaps I'll be able to stay a bit longer this time.”

Tina smiled at him. “I'd like that.”

  
  


  
  


 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it. The first few chapters of “Summer's Cauldron” will be up in the next week or two, and will pick up a few months after this leaves off. I've tinkered with the idea of writing a one-shot for Tina attending Newt's publishing party and meeting his parents, but for now I'm focusing on moving ahead with the larger story.
> 
> As a sort of thank you to my readers, I've written up a few posts on my tumblr giving insight into my thought process while writing this fic. If you're interested in hearing more about Credence's fate and my reasons for it, check out this post. If you'd like to read about my characterization of Leta Lestrange, I wrote a meta about her here, as well as a follow-up post with my thoughts on how she serves as a foil for both Tina and Credence. 
> 
> As always, please let me know what you thought. Every single comment just makes me more excited about writing, even if it's only one or two words. <3 Thank you all so much for sticking with me!!!


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